The Jaded Brothers: Trials of Magic
by Blueberry Blaster
Summary: AU - Part I. Hayden Alexander Potter. Harry James Potter. Brothers; twins. Only one is slated to be the world's saviour. One lives a loved life; the other, hardship. The trials of their first year at Hogwarts will forever change the course of fate.
1. Prologue

**The Jaded Brothers: Trials of Magic**

Summary: AU - Part I. Hayden Alexander Potter. Harry James Potter. Brothers; twins. Only one is slated to be the world's saviour. One lives a loved life; the other, hardship. The trials of their first year at Hogwarts will forever change the course of fate.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. Any and all infringement is un-intended.

* * *

**Prologue**

October, 1981.

Halloween.

_'Victory.'_

Lord Voldemort paused outside the Potters' residence, sneering scornfully at the wards erected around the modest, two-storey building.

_'Fools…'_ Without breaking his stride or faltering in the least, he overpowered the wards. He knew that within minutes, the dratted Order of the Phoenix would arrive – but not if he could help it. As he swept up the stone pavings to the front doors, he raised his own wards; temporary, but strong enough for a few minutes, depending on the efficiency of the Order. For the time being, they wouldn't be able to apparate, portkey or floo into the Potters' house of Godric's Hollow.

The great oak doors were blasted apart forcefully; splinters and shards ricocheting off the hallway. He walked past the many portraits, ignoring the occupants' shouts.

At the end of the hall, a pale and trembling witch stood resolutely, her eyes wide with fear but wand held steady. At the sight of the cloaked, menacing form of the Dark Lord, she screamed and cast a pitifully weak stunner at him.

With a lazy flick of his wrist, a shield flared into existence and deflected the spell back. He watched as the witch ducked and raised her wand again – far too late.

"_Crucio_."

The screams of the babysitter were delightful to his ears, and he intensified the power behind the Unforgivable Curse. He basked in the glorious screams of pain for another minute before releasing the sobbing witch.

Ariana raised her head weakly to stare up at the Dark Lord. Tears cascaded freely down her cheeks but a defiant glint remained in her eyes. Her wand had rolled away, resting at His feet. She watched numbly as he raised a foot and brought it down on her wand, snapping it cleanly. It gave off a feeble blue spark before dying out again.

He raised his wand; the tip pointed down at her, and spoke the two words dreaded by all.

"_Avada_..."

She stared at him still, ignoring the illusionary pain from the Cruciatus, and it seemed to infuriate him, because his malicious smirk was replaced by a hateful sneer.

"… _Kedavra!_"

A green jet of light burst from the wand and closed in on her. She closed her eyes, and breathed her last breath.

_'Forgive me, Lily, James… I tried…'_

Voldemort smiled coldly as he stepped carefully over the crumpled corpse, and moved through the house leisurely. In the living room, a small coffee table lay upturned, pieces of china shattered on the red-and-gold rug. A book was discarded on the couch.

All of this he dismissed, wand in hand as he ascended the stairs slowly. He ran a pale hand along the wooden rail as his feet led him to the upstairs landing. He paused and then made his way to the open doorway on his left. A smirk developed slowly on his face, broadening as he stood in the doorway.

Inside, against the far wall, was a large, wooden crib decorated with prancing animals: a dog, a stag, a werewolf and a rat. His blood-red eyes sparked with amusement when they alighted upon the last: the Potters were so sickeningly trusting.

Then a soft whimper drew his attention back to the crib. He was momentarily surprised to see a one-year-old, messy-haired baby stare back at him evenly. The large, emerald eyes bore into his uncomfortably as the boy stood against the rail.

_'But there should be two...'_

Ah. There was the other twin, sitting upright in the crib behind his brother, staring at him with wide, hazel eyes. This one was distinctly red-headed, a messy mop of auburn hair. The boy whimpered again, softly, as his chubby arms wrapped around the dark-haired boy's leg.

He raised his wand again, and debated over which to kill first. He pointed his wand at the red-head, and was more amused than surprised when the black-haired babe moved to stand directly between Him and his brother.

'_No matter,'_ he mused as he redirected the tip to aim at the green-eyed boy's forehead. _'They shall both die.'_

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Everyone in Godric's Hollow heard the agonized scream, muggles and wizards alike as Voldemort's body was enveloped in his own curse, having rebounded off of the dark-haired twin. However, no-one was around to see the body of the feared Dark Lord disintegrate.

No-one saw the twin with a lightning bolt-shaped scar fall back, alive, but exhausted.

No-one saw the ceiling cave in from the sheer intensity of the magical outburst, thousands of pieces of rubble showering the twins. The dark-haired brother saw the danger and instinctively raised a small shield to protect him and his brother. Several pieces managed to get past the shield, however, and cut an irregular 'X' on the left cheek of the red-haired baby before the danger ceased.

The wails of Hayden Alexander Potter floated down the stairs unheard by all except for Harry James Potter. The silent twin crawled over to his brother and stroked the cut on Hayden's cheek gently, causing the cut to glow a soft blue. Eventually, amazingly, the cut was healed, but left a raw-looking scar that would forever remain.

The wails died down to soft sniffles, but the dark-haired twin remained as silent as ever.

After a while, the frantic shouts of the Order of the Phoenix could be heard. The members fanned out, as a grizzled Auror barked out orders incessantly. Three other beings, however, raced inside the house, wands drawn and desperate.

"HARRY? HAYDEN?"

"_Ari!_" Lily Potter shrieked as she darted forwards to collapse next to her friend's body. She choked on her sobs as her husband, James Potter and his friend Sirius Black stepped around her, bowing their heads in mourning as they passed.

James, now pale and shaking, paid no heed to his surroundings as he rushed up the stairs. Sirius scoured the lower floor rooms first before following Lily upstairs. They were barely half-way up when James' cry reached their ears.

Lily rushed to the crib, ignoring the rubble around her feet and gasped in relief as she saw James cradling Hayden and Harry in each arm, tears of relief escaping his eyes. She took Hayden from his arms carefully, holding the red-head tightly. Sirius scanned the room carefully before moving onto the remaining rooms, immensely relieved.

"James," Lily managed to choke out eventually. "James – look."

He did so, and what little colour that had returned to his face disappeared again at the sight of the X-shaped scar on Hayden's left cheek. He fingered it, eliciting a soft whimper from the red-haired twin. He withdrew his hand and gazed at Harry's face, seeing the lightning bolt-shaped scar.

"Dear Merlin," he breathed, "What are they?"

"Curse scars, no doubt," a familiar voice spoke up from behind them. They turned to see Albus Dumbledore, his blue eyes serious. He crossed the room carefully and held out his arms. Lily and James reluctantly placed the twins in his arms, hesitant to let go of them.

Albus scrutinized each twin carefully, and stretched out his magic to 'see' the scars. Harry's lightning bolt was pulsing softly, not with light magic, but with a dark aura. Hayden's, however, was definitely light, but fading. Harry blinked up at the old wizard sleepily, and yawned widely before nestling his face into his beard. Hayden was sniffling softly, and there were some dried tear-marks on his face.

"But how?" Lily asked, her eyes anguished, relieved, yet mostly curious now.

"No doubt Voldemort cast the Killing curse…" he trailed a finger over Hayden's scar, "on young Hayden here."

Both parents inhaled sharply.

"And – and he survived?" James whispered wondrously. "Merlin… this is…"

"Unbelievable," Lily finished for him, taking Hayden back.

Sirius burst into the room, and sighed with open relief as he strode over to James' side.

"What happened?" he murmured.

James opened his mouth to reply when Remus Lupin charged in, eyes sparking with anger as his gaze landed on Sirius. He roared, and charged forward.

"Remus! Stop!"

Albus' sharp tone stopped him in his tracks. "Sirius was not the Secret Keeper. It seems that Mr. Pettigrew was."

"What? How?" he didn't realise that he was noticeably slack-jawed, but eventually closed it with a click.

"We switched, Remus," Lily took half a step towards him, still holding Hayden. "We thought it'd be less conspicuous if it was Peter. We didn't tell you because…" she hesitated, and glanced at James and Sirius, who were silent and abashed. James swallowed and met his amber eyes.

"W-we thought you were the traitor, Moony. We never suspected Peter."

"We're sorry," Sirius looked at him with pleading eyes.

Remus heaved a sigh. He wasn't angry; farm from it, in fact. The last few weeks had been horrible, and he had been rather snappish.

"It's alright," he smiled reassuringly, "Really." Inside, he and the wolf were howling bloody murder. _'I'll kill you, Wormtail! When I see you again, it'll be too soon, you traitorous rat!'_

James and Sirius stared at him for a moment before enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug. He wheezed; eyes bulging as his two closest friends squeezed him to within an inch of his life. He patted their backs awkwardly as the anger subsided, dulling to smoldering coals of hate. He tried to pry himself gently from the four-armed embrace before giving up.

"Okay… you can let go now," he gasped.

James and Sirius immediately backed away, managing to look both mischievous and contrite simultaneously.

Meanwhile, Albus was staring intently at the dark-haired baby in his arms. The scar reeked of dark magic, yet he seemed so… innocent. He brushed the boy's hair back, and traced the scar slowly.

"Headmaster? What could have happened?"

Albus pondered thoughtfully, still staring at the lightning bolt. Little Harry was still asleep, clutching a fistful of his beard tightly. The wizened old wizard almost smiled. Almost. He handed the baby over to Remus after tugging his beard free. The werewolf held Harry securely, staring down at the baby lovingly.

"I believe that Voldemort has indeed come here," he paused to indicate the frayed, dusty edge of a black cloak hidden under the rubble as Lily gasped and the Marauders froze. "He attempted to kill Hayden, but the Curse rebounded back at him, therefore marking Hayden."

"So he's dead?" Remus' voice held a note of wonder, and restrained joy.

"Alas, I do not believe so," he watched as their faces turned crestfallen. "I do, however, believe that he will need some time to recuperate."

The four adults smiled widely, and James and Lily embraced each other tightly, mindful of Hayden.

"Wait!" the room fell silent once again as Sirius shouted. "What about Harry? He's got a scar as well. How do you know it was Hayden, anyway?"

Dumbledore sighed sadly. "Harry's scar is no doubt a magical backlash, or exposure to raw magic. I believe it was Hayden who stopped Voldemort because I can see that the aura around his scar is definitely light magic. Harry's, however, is dark. It is most likely the dark nature of the Killing Curse that caused it. Hayden used light magic to protect himself and Harry. Hayden is the prophesized child."

Albus Dumbledore may indeed be wise and powerful, but it never occured to him that young Harry had used his magic to heal his twin brother; that it had been in fact Harry whom had been marked - bound to a prhophesized fate that was believed to rest upon Hayden's shoulders.

**XxX**

_Seven years later…_

Potter Manor, large, majestic, and equipped with its own Quidditch pitch, was as silent as it was secluded.

The sun broke over the horizon and the first rays of daylight filtered through the partially-closed curtains of a room belonging to an eight-year-old boy.

The twin of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry groaned as the rays of sunlight hit his eyes and raised a hand in a half-hearted attempt to shield his face. After a fruitless minute of batting away the light, he gave up and rolled over, burying his face into the pillow.

After a few minutes, he reluctantly rolled out of bed, blinking blearily as he fumbled to put his glasses on. He yawned as he grabbed a few articles of clothing and stumbled down the hall into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him softly as he stripped and stepped into a hot shower.

Ten minutes later, the door opened and out burst a cloud of condensed steam, with Harry obscured in the midst still tugging on his favourite green shirt. He crept downstairs lightly, pulled on his trainers and grabbed an apple as he exited through the back door.

He made a beeline for the Quidditch pitch, munching the apple as he walked. By the time he reached the broom shed, he was wiping his hands on his faded jeans. The array of brooms they had was impressive, with at least one model from every year. He grabbed one of the newer Nimbus models, pocketed a Snitch and exited back ontp the enormous pitch.

"And here are the Lions!" he muttered, commentating his own game as usual just to amuse himself, grinning as he breathed in the cool, dawn air. "With star Seeker Harry Potter!"

He mounted the broom, and let the Snitch fly away. "The Snitch has been released," he tensed, then kicked off from the dewy grass. "And they're off!"

In the air, Harry felt himself relax automatically, subconsciously. He rose sharply, forty, forty-five, fifty feet before spiralling to a stop. He scanned for the Snitch before tearing down the length of the pitch, almost lying horizontal to the shaft. He swerved around imaginary players, and dodged the would-be Bludgers.

Once he reached the hoops, he dived down, spiralling around the pole of the middle hoop as he went. He let out an exuberant whoop as he pulled up barely three feet from the ground to speed across the pitch, letting his toes brush the grass.

With the wind whipping his messy hair back, he spread his arms out wide, controlling the broom with his legs. He laughed; the sound lost in the winds as he placed his hands on the broom again and pulled the shaft up ninety degrees to make a sharp, vertical climb.

Harry felt a sense of vertigo in the back of his mind as he climbed higher and higher. A golden blur sped just past his face suddenly, and he instinctively snatched it out of the air.

"He's caught the Snitch!" This was his time, when he could be alone and do whatever he wished. It had become a bit of a habit, mock-commentating, but he didn't care. He grinned as he let the winged golden ball dart away, before chasing after it again.

A few hours later, he returned to the manor, breathless and windswept, but grinning widely. Once inside, he kicked off his shoes and padded into the kitchen quietly for a glass of water. He crept through the living room and was just starting up the stairs when a quiet, amused voice startled him into choking on his own saliva.

"Do you often sneak out to fly?

He whirled around to see his favourite surrogate uncle.

"Uncle Moony!"

Remus chuckled as he put down the book on the table and stood up. He returned the dark-haired boy's hug, and ruffled the messy mop of hair.

"_Uncle Mooo-ny_!"

"It won't make a difference cub," Remus told him, smiling warmly, "It's a fact of life: your hair shall never lie flat."

The boy ducked under the next assault and grumbled half-heartedly even as he smiled widely. He poked the older wizard before settling back into the couch, curling up comfortably. "What are you doing here, Uncle Moony?"

Remus smiled; the child was so… bright! He could absorb things faster than a sponge, had quickly learnt how to read, and always begged for stories. He often brought a book on magic to Potter Manor whenever he visited, and a week or so later, the little child would be asking for another.

"Why, it's _that_ day of the year again!"

Harry stared back at him, confused. "Huh?"

Remus laughed, "It's your birthday, cub!"

Understanding, joy, and embarrassment came over his features, and then Harry was bouncing around the room ecstatically. Remus chuckled as the eight-year-old practically leaped off the walls, crowing, "it's my birthday! It's my birthday!" over and over again.

"Oi, what's all this racket about?"

James Potter stumbled down the stairs, yawning as he shrugged on a robe and blinking repeatedly. "Uh, Moony? Why is Harry jumping around like a jack-rabbit?" The werewolf gave him a rueful grin. "You didn't charm him like a chocolate frog, did you?" James accused him, to which Remus replied with an affronted face:

"I beg your pardon? I am above such indignities!"

"Right, sure." James suddenly fell back with an undignified "oomph!" as a small, black-haired cannonball hurtled into his stomach. He could vaguely hear Remus roaring with laughter, but was mostly preoccupied with the bundle of hyperactivity squealing repetitively into his ear, "it's my birthday! It's my birthday!"

He laughed, suddenly realising the situation and jumped up, holding his eight-year-old son in the air as he spun around. Remus watched amusedly as the two bounced around the room, making enough noise to wake the dead.

"James! Harry!"

Miraculously, the two ceased to move at all when Lily stormed in, looking dangerously scary. Remus coughed as he tried to slink away quietly while the two Potter males stood very still, heads down and arms behind their backs as James' wife advanced upon them.

"Oh, no you don't Remus! You stop right there, right now!"

The werewolf obeyed immediately, meeting Lily's glare meekly.

The three were unable to do anything at all as Lily glared at them with her patented "Version 2.0 I'll-show-you-my-twelve-uses-of-frying-pans-if-you-don't-sit-down-and-shut-up" glare (as Sirius had so eloquently dubbed it).

James immediately launched into his "flatter, apologize, and run" speech, Harry pulled off an irresistibly adorable "kicked-puppy" look while Remus carefully schooled his face into a pitiful "I-can't-help-it-what-was-I-supposed-to-do?" look.

Eventually, Lily's glare melted and she sighed exasperatedly, which James immediately took advantage of and switched to his "You are my Hero/Heroine!" monologue, while Harry grinned and hugged his mum. Remus sneaked out of the room tactfully, grabbing his abandoned book as he left.

**XxX**

Back upstairs, there was another child still asleep, snoring softly under the covers. The alarm clock on his bedside table read half-past eight, and the boy would have happily gone on sleeping if not for the sudden invasion of his room.

"Hayden!" The door burst open, followed by quick, light steps. The curtains were yanked open, and sunlight flooded in. There was a muffled moan from within the bedcovers, and a slight rustling as the bed's occupant shifted.

"Hayden! Up, up, up!"

Hayden, moaned again, hoping that if he ignored everything beyond his bed, the voice would give up and leave him to snatch a few more minutes of sleep.

"_Haaaaay-den_!" the voice was right above him now. "_Hayden_, wake up!"

"Mm, I dunwa'a," he groaned, attempting to shove off the weight sitting on his back. The Weight, as he had dubbed it, was persistent, and started messing up his already-messy red hair. He mumbled an inarticulate response, smacking the hands away.

Suddenly, the Weight disappeared and several minutes of blissful silence followed. He smiled contentedly and snuggled deeper under the covers, ignorant of what his twin was plotting at the moment.

Hayden was just slipping back into dreamland when…

_BRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIING!_

The sudden ringing erupted right beside his ear, and he yelped in shock. Thrashing wildly, he somehow managed to thoroughly entangle himself in his covers before tumbling over the side of his bed.

After a good deal of flailing, he emerged from within the depths of the covers to find his twin sitting on his bed, the alarm clock beside him, attempting to stifle his giggles. Hayden glared at his twin, but Harry soon dissolved into a fit of giggles with him following soon after.

When he regained his composure (mostly), Hayden tossed his bedcovers over his twin and, yawning hugely, stumbled across his room to the lump of clothes tossed haphazardly onto his chair, absent-mindedly scratching the wonky, prominent 'X' on his left cheek.

"Haaaayden…" Harry teased him, managing to get out of the covers. "Do you know what todaaaaaaay is?" His twin wrapped the covers around his face, fluttering his lashes and adopting a puppy-dog look.

Hayden shook his head tiredly, yet amusedly. "Nope. Should I?" He ran a hand through his auburn hair absently. "Have you seen my socks?"

Harry, who was twirling an imaginary lock of hair around his finger, shook his head slowly and innocently. His brother caught on and sent a glare his way, although the image was ruined when he failed to stifle another yawn.

"_Harry_," he moaned, "Where did you put my socks? And what's so special about today?"

Harry paused and pretended to look thoughtful, putting a finger to his chin and screwing up his eyes. Then he brightened, grinned and pointed upwards.

Hayden looked up… and his jaw promptly fell down.

"**HARRY**!"

A few minutes later, James, Lily and Remus burst into Hayden's room, having heard the shouts resonating from upstairs. They took in the sight of Hayden, shouting incoherently at Harry, who was seemingly oblivious and, with a finger in each ear, singing to himself.

"- CEILING! _MY_ CEILING!"

The three adults looked up at the ceiling at this, and three more jaws dropped.

James started laughing.

Remus smiled amusedly.

And Lily continued staring open-mouthed at the ceiling.

For there, stuck to the ceiling, was a colourful array of socks – _Hayden's_ socks.

Then Lily began her tirade.

"HARRY! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? HOW DID YOU STICK ALL THOSE SOCKS UP THERE?"

"Lily, dear," James choked out, still grinning widely. "Look – the socks can spell." And he promptly fell apart again, and this time, Remus joined him.

Lily frowned, but looked up again, as did Hayden. For the socks did indeed spell out words:

'_HAPPY BIRTHDAY HAYDEN!'_

Hayden stopped, blinking in disbelief. Then a smile broke out on his face. He took a deep breath, and then…

"IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!" he crowed ecstatically, then bounded onto his bed and threw his arms around his twin.

"IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY! IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY! IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY! IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY! IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY! IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY!"

Harry laughed and joined in, together making enough noise to level Potter Manor. Lily smiled and stepped back, next to the two grinning Marauders. Downstairs, the doorbell rang repeatedly, and, with his enhanced hearing, only Remus heard it. He muttered something to James and quietly left the room.

"IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY! IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY! IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY! IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY! IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY! IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY!"

Opening the door, still smiling and shaking his head, Remus' smile grew even wider when he saw who was standing on the front porch.

"Sirius! Good morning!"

Sirius Black, Marauder, Auror and Godfather grinned in return. "Only you would call every morning a good morning, Moony. Only you."

Remus simply laughed in return and ushered Sirius in quickly.

"IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY! IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY! IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY! IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY! IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY! IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY! IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY!"

Sirius and Remus shared a look.

"_HAYDEN ALEXANDER! HARRY JAMES POTTER!_"

Amazingly, quiet befell the house. But then…

"WE'RE EIGHT-YEARS-OLD! WE'RE EIGHT-YEARS-OLD! WE'RE EIGHT-YEARS-OLD!"

Lily sighed defeatedly.

**XxX**

Half-an-hour later, the Potter household was as quiet and as calm as could be. Harry was listening to another of Remus' stories of the Marauders' school days, enraptured, his waffles cold and forgotten on his plate. His fork was held loosely in one hand, mouth open and eyes wide.

At the other end of the table, James and Sirius had charmed their bacon rinds to do battle with one another, and were egging them on shamelessly.

Lily was still in the kitchen cooking up _more_ breakfast, and Hayden was still in the bathroom.

"… and then James goes and ruins the prank by accidentally charming Professor _Flitwick_ instead of Slughorn, and, well… things pretty much went downhill from there."

"Oi! That was Padfoot's fault, not mine!"

"I beg your pardon!" Sirius leaned back in his chair, looking affronted.

"Actually, James," Remus laughed, "The one that casts the spell and misses is the one that is at fault."

"Padfoot bumped into me!"

"No, _you_ were busy ogling Lily and bumped into _me_!"

"James! Sirius! Are you really arguing about something that happened ten years ago?"

Sirius gasped melodramatically, and James placed a hand over his heart.

"'_Something_'! Prongs, my dear friend, Lady Lily is unappreciative of…" Sirius raised a hand to his forehead, "_pranks_!"

It was obviously well-rehearsed, for James and even Remus gasped dramatically and responded with aghast faces: "The end is nigh!"

Harry watched with a grin as his mother sighed (although she was smiling) and piled more pancakes onto a quickly-dwindling pile. She smacked Sirius' wrist as he reached for another helping.

She stared at him sternly. "No more! Hayden hasn't eaten yet!"

Sirius nodded meekly, cradling his hand with a look of mock-hurt on his face. When she returned to the kitchen, he quickly snatched a pancake off the plate and was ready to stuff it into his mouth when James burst out laughing.

"Y-your hand!" he managed to gasp out before disappearing under the table.

Sirius looked at his hand, and his eyes widened comically: for the hand that had pilfered from the forbidden pancake-plate had turned… blue. He stared at it in shock for a few minutes until Lily returned to the table, this time with a plate of eggs and bacon. Sirius leapt to his feet and pointed a blue finger dramatically Lily.

"You!" he accused. "You did this!"

Lily merely raised an eyebrow at this. "Come now, Sirius, don't be unappreciative of…" she repeated what Sirius had done earlier, raising a hand to her forehead, "_pranks_!"

Sirius gaped at her as Remus and James roared with laughter. Even Harry was snickering into his glass of pumpkin juice. Lily grinned at him triumphantly and disappeared into the kitchen again.

"Turn-about is fair play, Sirius," James snickered.

Just then, Hayden walked in, hair as messy as ever and barefeet. Harry snickered, before hiding behind his pile of pancakes. His twin glared at the top of his head before yawning widely.

"M-mornin' dad, mornin' Uncle Moony, morning –" Hayden blinked, openly staring at Sirius' blue hand "- what's with the hand?"

Sirius glared at the kitchen doorway, blatantly ignoring James and Remus. He grunted an inarticulate reply, before abruptly brightening. "Happy Birthday! What sort of devious and humiliating prank are you planning today?"

"Sirius! That's enough corrupting from you!" Lily stalked back in, scowling at the blue-handed Marauder. She placed the last plate of toast on the table before drawing up a chair. "Happy Birthday, Hayden, Harry! You're both growing so –"

"- I think we'd better tuck in before heading out," Remus cut in hastily, for which James, Sirius and both twins appreciated immensely. Once Lily ("All mothers do!") got into her favourite discussion of the twins' growth, there was no stopping her. Everyone dug into their own plate, bantering, bickering, lecturing and teasing floating back and forth between the six.

"Mum? Where are we going?" Harry asked around his mouthful of eggs. He received a reprimanding glare until he swallowed and offered a sheepish grin in apology.

"Diagon Alley," she replied. "You can choose a present then and there, but the rest will be opened later at the party," Hayden and Harry nodded quickly, smiles dominating their faces. "Do you have an idea of what you want? Where you want to go?"

The twins shared a glance before crying out simultaneously:

"_Quality Quidditch Supplies_!"

Lily groaned and glared accusingly at the three Marauders. "This is your fault," she declared. "We already have a dozen brooms! Why do we need more?"

"_Mu-um_!" The twins argued unanimously. "This is _Quidditch_!"

"They've got a point, Lils," James offered helpfully. He received a glare for his trouble. "Eep."

Remus rolled his eyes while Sirius laughed, blue hand forgotten. "Alright, if we're done, we should get ready."

No-one argued as they dispersed from the table; Sirius and Remus moved to the adjoining room to grab their robes, James moved upstairs followed by Hayden, and Harry moved to help his mother in the kitchen.

Forty minutes, three loud arguments over socks, multiple debates over various meaningless topics _("Who stole the last apple_?"), and ten spatula-threats later, everyone was ready to leave, although Hayden was unwillingly sporting a pair of mismatched socks. He glowered at his twin as they stepped into the fireplace one-by-one, he glowered as they moved through the Leaky Cauldron, he glowered as his father tapped the brick wall that hid Diagon Alley.

When they stepped through the archway, however, his bad mood disappeared to be replaced by one of joy and enthusiasm. Lily kept a tight hold on Hayden's hand as they meandered through the crowd, keeping up a false pretence of politeness. Inside, she was muttering disapprovingly at the stares and whispers that replaced the usual shouts and carefree-laughter of Diagon Alley.

"Is that the Potters?"

"… Boy-Who-Lived, yes…"

"- defeated You-Know-Who!"

"It's his birthday today, isn't it dad?"

Soon, many people were coming up to Hayden to shake his hand; some with teary eyes while others with immensely pompous expressions, although the mere intimidating demeanours of James and Sirius were more than efficient for clearing a pathway through the throngs of witches and wizards. Remus and Harry brought up the rear, the eight-year-old staring at the shops with bright green eyes, asking his surrogate uncle multiple questions, leading to many patient, informative answers – basically giving the dark-haired boy a brief history of the entire Alley.

Lily and Hayden stopped at the joke shop – much to Lily's disapproval – while Remus and Harry browsed leisurely through the aisles of books in Flourish and Blotts, flipping through various books together. James and Sirius had gone to Gringotts to collect some more galleons, and then would meet up at Quality Quidditch Supplies.

After dragging a reluctant Hayden from the joke shop, they continued down the Alley to see James and Sirius ogling something through the window of the Quidditch shop. Immediately, Hayden and Harry dodged through the crowd to pile into the shop, closely followed by the star-struck Marauders (Remus discluded).

"Hayden! It's a new model!"

"Wow!" Hayden breathed, "The Nimbus 1995!"

The two twins spun around to face James and Sirius. "Dad, can we please, please, _please_ have one?"

James, despite having openly admired the broom earlier, feigned thoughtfulness. "Well…" he glanced from one twin's puppy-eyed gazes and laughed, ruffling their hair affectionately. "Sure, sure. In fact –" James looked to the assistant behind the counter "- we'll take four." Behind him, Lily groaned despairingly.

The grins that were eerily identical remained on the twins' faces for a decidedly long time.

**XxX**

"_Happy Birthday to you…_"

Harry frowned as he tried to bury himself in his book on magical theory.

"_Happy Birthday to you…_"

He gritted his teeth irritably as the sounds of the public party outside in the backyard drifted upstairs.

"_Happy Birthday dear Hayden…_"

Yep. Every year. Every single bloody year, their neighbouring witches and wizards came over to celebrate the Boy-Who-Lived's birthday. Of course, that meant no-one wanted to see Harry Potter, bringing extravagant gifts only for the Wizarding World's _savior_.

"_Happy Birthday to you_!"

Cheers broke out, and Harry rolled his eyes. '_Gits.'_ Of course, Hayden appeared rather nervous and embarrassed under all the praise and attention, but Harry could clearly see it: his twin rather enjoyed it. He would never admit it, though, not wanting to hurt Harry's feelings, but he often got carried away with all the gifts the adoring public lavished upon him.

Harry, however, was the exact opposite.

He knew himself well enough to know that he would despise being in the centre of attention, always under scrutiny, given a public Title-That-Must-Be-Hyphenated-And-Capitalized and generally placed on a high pedestal, ready to be knocked off and ridiculed at a moment's notice.

It was three days after his and Hayden's birthday, and the party that day had been most enjoyable, with his father's fellow Auror Frank Longbottom and his wife, Alice, attending with their eight-year-old son Neville. Harry found the brown-haired, slightly pudgy boy extremely shy but friendly, and the two were soon engaged in a discussion of Hogwarts, flying, pranks, Herbology (Which Neville specialized in, even at eight years of age), Quidditch, and, somehow, Potions.

Now, however, was the day for the public party, in which (more often than not, sadly) pompous, egotistical and snobby witches and wizards, as well as the more friendly wizarding folk, were invited to join and basically worship the ground Hayden walked upon.

Harry snorted. Hayden was rather modest, although he had inherited their father's side of the genes that, as their mother had stated, was an "absolutely arrogant, cocky, and attention-basking" characteristic.

Downstairs, the noise from the party was becoming unbearable, and he flung the book across the room where it hit the wall and fell down, opened to a page on wandless magic. He hesitated before picking it up again and reading through the chapter, his interest growing with every sentence he read. He subconsciously tuned out the noise of the party, eyes flicking back and forth across the page.

'_Wandless magic is a rare ability, considered vague and magically taxing by most. The reason many require the use of a wand to channel their magic is because it requires less magical prowess. Wandless magic is rarely attempted nowadays, and the last known witch, Devida Illinosa, to successfully cast several wandless and non-verbal variations of shield charms was severely drained both mentally, magically and physically and permanently depleted her magical reserves. Eventually, she died from the strains of her fluctuating magical core.'_

Harry frowned contemplatively. He set the book down on his desk and weighed his chances.

Should he try this wandless magic? So far, he had only ever had accidental magic, but according to Uncle Remus, it had come rather early for him: at eleven months of age, actually. He had read through many magical books already, thanks to Uncle Moony and occasionally his mother, but he had never attempted to cast spells, wand or not.

'_What are you?'_ A voice in him mocked. _'Are you a Gryffindor or what?'_

After several minutes of debate, he made his decision.

Checking out the window, he made sure the party was still in full swing before turning and setting down a quill on his four-poster bed. He inhaled deeply, willing himself to relax, before focusing his mind on levitating the quill.

'_Wingardium Leviosa!'_ The quill remained unruffled. _'Wingardium Leviosa!'_ Nothing. He took a deep breath and tried several more times, each as effective as the last.

'_Right, I think that was too big a jump. Let's go slowly: wandless first, then include the non-verbal.'_

Pointing a finger at the quill, he willed it to levitate, and intoned carefully, "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

The quill quivered slightly, and the feathered end rose slightly, almost imperceptibly, but it was an improvement.

He forced himself to relax again, and focused his mind on levitating the quill; as he did so, there was a strange stirring inside him, making his chest tingle and blood flow quicker. "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

Finally, slowly, but most magnificently, the quill rose one inch, then stopped at two, floating on invisible winds, kept aloft by indescribable forces.

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he willed the quill to stay afloat, and it did so, an incomparable feeling of utmost joy, pride and awe warming him from the tip of his toes to the very ends of his messy black hair. After a while, a wave of exhaustion settled over him, making him lose focus. The quill fluttered back down to the bed, and by the time it settled onto the duvet, Harry was already fast asleep, still wearing his glasses.

Ten minutes later, Remus opened the door slowly to peek in; smiling at the sight of the eight-year-old sprawled across the bed. He crept in and stacked the book on the desk, tucking Harry in and placing his glasses on the bedside table. He cast a silencing charm on the windows to give the dark-haired boy some peace and backed out.

**XxX**

"Good evening James, Lily."

"Albus! Come right through!"

The face in the green flames disappeared, and Albus Dumbledore emerged from the fireplace moment's later. He accepted the cup of tea Lily offered and sat down on the couch.

James came through and closed the door behind him, moving to sit next to Lily. "Is something wrong, Albus?"

The old wizard took a sip from the cup before setting it down on the table between them. "Not so much as wrong, my dear boy," he answered, as jovial as ever. "Just a small matter concerning young Hayden: his magical training."

James and Lily immediately set their tea down, focusing their undivided attention on the Headmaster.

"In a year's time, we should begin teaching Hayden magic," his blue eyes were unusually grave and vacant of the reassuring twinkle. "I believe that it will not be long before Voldemort returns, and Hayden should be prepared."

James and Lily nodded, having expected the matter a few years previous. "Should we begin tutoring him ourselves?" The two parents shared a look. "Or should we hire a tutor?"

Dumbledore raised the cup to his lips. "You and James shall teach him some History, and some basic Charms and Transfiguration –" pause, sip, "- and after the first year, perhaps some Potions and Herbology. (Pause, sip.) This leads to our next matter: Harry."

"What of him?"

"With Hayden's tutoring, I fear young Harry may feel left out; envious, of the increased attention you shall have to give to his twin."

"But can't he learn with Hayden?" James' hazel eyes were worried, anyone could see.

"Alas, I do no think it wise." Dumbledore sighed sadly. "The reason not many children begin learning magic before they turn eleven is because of the strain it will have on their nurturing magical core."

"Then why Hayden?" Lily pressed, "Why are we risking something like this for him?"

"If we do not, the results may be dire. And I believe that Hayden is persistent enough to survive, and I do not wish to place another child into the midst of a preparation of war."

"You think it will lead to that?" Lily's grip on James' arm tightened. "Another war?"

"Undoubtedly. Which is why I propose a solution for Harry's situation: it is undesirable, but the best for Harry."

Lily and James shared a hesitant, doubtful look, conveying hidden messages to each other. Dumbledore waited patiently as they conversed with each other silently. Eventually, they turned back to him.

"What is it?"

**XxX**

_October 3, 1988_

The sun was just peeking over the horizon, creeping into the many windows of houses, buildings, offices.

And St. Catherine's Orphanage, London.

Throughout the worn but comfortable building, the volunteer helpers and a few teenage orphans rose, yawning as they went about their daily morning rituals, readying themselves for another trying day.

The desk receptionist, Janice Marthis, moved slowly across the lobby, pulling up the blinds and opening various windows as she did so. She blinked wearily; many tasks and problems already flitting through her mind. She settled down behind the desk and reluctantly pulled a stack of papers towards her.

Her long brown hair hung half-way down her back, occasionally falling into her eyes and she tutted impatiently as she reached up and twisted it into a messy knot. She tapped her pen on her lips, frowning thoughtfully, before the sound of a pen dancing across paper filled the room again.

Three hours later, the majority of the children had woken, running through the halls, laughing, giggling and shouting happily; but to the middle-aged woman, it was as sad as a crying, abandoned child.

'_These children should have a home to go to!'_ she ranted angrily. _'They should have a family to love and be loved by; a life that won't be spent alone!'_

Everyday, Janice filed paperwork after paper work; ranting inside as she smiled at each child passing to wish her a good morning, some of the older ones bantering with her friendly, children that she wished a happier lifestyle for, worked everyday for.

Finished with the files, she began mutilating her apple as she pondered what to do. Suddenly, a soft, tentative knock floated to her sharp ears. She pushed back from the desk and opened the door to reveal a trembling dark-haired child with the brightest, greenest eyes she had ever seen.

She was shocked into silence; staring uncomprehendingly at the boy, whose eyes were shining with unshed tears, but meeting her gaze evenly, bravely. He was clutching a stuffed toy like a lifeline, a stag. He was shivering madly, clad in a green t-shirt and jeans with a thin, black jacket zipped up to his neck.

She snapped into action, opening the door wider and stepping aside to let the boy step in uncertainly, smiling sadly yet reassuringly at the boy as he stared around the small lobby, despite the screaming voice inside her.

She closed the door and led him over to a chair. "What's your name, dear?"

He stared at, clearly scared and clueless in an unfamiliar situation. "H-Harry, ma'am. Harry Potter."

She nodded, smiling at him as she rubbed his back comfortingly. "Alright. Harry, I'm Janice, but you can call me Jane. Everyone else does." He was still staring around uncertainly, yet doing a good job of keeping a brave face on. "Harry? Do you know where you are?"

"Orphanage," he mumbled, eyes darting around wildly.

"Are…" she hesitated. "Are you an orphan, Harry?"

He flinched, eyes tearing up again. "N-no," he sniffled, and Janice instinctively wrapped her arms around the boy as the tears leaked out of his eyes. "M-mum and Dad s-s-said that they're sorry, and that they love me, but they didn't h-have a choice! They said they had to look after H-Hayden, but…" he buried his face in her shoulder, sniffling pitifully.

Janice felt her anger melt slightly, replaced by sorrow. She waited until the sobs ceased and his body relax, before speaking again. "Harry? Were your parents poor?"

He looked confused. He shook his head numbly, and mumbled an apology about her clothes. She smiled. "It's not a problem Harry. When were you born?

"July 31st, 1980," he mumbled.

"Right then," she looked at the clock, "Why don't you get settled in and then we'll have a talk later? Go down the hall and into the first door on your left. Ask for Vida and she'll help you from there." She shooed Harry into the hallway and watched him with a sad smile before returning to her desk.

Meanwhile, just down the street, there were two people sitting together on a weather-worn bench. The two couples, a woman with fiery red hair and a man with a mop of wildly messy black hair, were staring intently at the orphanage. They were holding each other tightly, unable to hold back tears as they watched the small boy shuffling inside the orphanage.

"James?" The woman's muffled voice was uncertain. "Do you think we did the right thing?"

The man sighed wearily. "I don't know, Lily. I just don't know. We'll just have to wait and see."

He stood, helping Lily to her feet. "Let's get home; Hayden'll almost be up, and we'll need to have a talk."

Lily let out a shaky breath. "Merlin, he hates us now, doesn't he?"

James hugged her tightly, caressing her red tresses. "Shh, don't think about it. Remember what Albus said: we'll come and get him one day, when he gets his Hogwarts letter."

Without another word, the two walked down the street slowly, unaware that they were being watched by another pair of pained green eyes. He watched as they reached the end of the street, watched as they looked around carefully. The woman looked back tearfully and blew a kiss to the boy watching them. The boy waved, crying silently, watching them as they twirled on the spot and vanished.

"Goodbye Mum," he whispered, "Goodbye Dad."

**XxX**

_February 18, 1990_

Many months later, in a small, sparsely furnished yet comfortable room, a small boy of nine tossed and turned in his bed restlessly, fighting an inner turmoil as he did so every night for the past year and a half. He moaned weakly as he clutched desperately at the sheets, his face dotted with perspiration.

"No… don't… not Hayden…" his voice trailed off into choked sobs, a single tear escaping his tightly shut eyes.

In his mind's eye, there was a veiled, cruel face, a green light and pain. He shuddered and awoke with a gasp, jerking upright before he was aware of the action. He gasped for breath, eyes wide with fright.

Eventually, he calmed down and closed his eyes. He sat there still, straining his brain over the nightmare he had experienced every night since… he came here.

He was not the youngest in St. Catherine's, although he initially had been, but as the months passed, more orphans were taken into the orphanage – far more than those leaving, either as legal adults or with families. The other kids in the orphanage ignored him (although they tended to laugh at him), which was significantly better than open hostility. He could even go as far as saying that all of them were ignorant of his existence – except one.

Antonio Emerson; a classic example of a cowardly bully.

Half a month into his stay, a girl that looked to be about fourteen sidled casually into his room just as he was levitating his few belongings around the room in boredom. The girl, Danielle, had seen his act of magic and screamed before taking off down the hall.

The next day, Emerson had shouldered him roughly to the ground, and continued to pound him into the dirt until he stopped resisting. The burly sixteen-year-old bully had openly called him a freak.

Anyone that had a talk (that didn't constitute shoving, spitting, punching and "freak") with him was beaten to a pulp the next day, except the adults.

He sighed as he pushed back the thin blanket and reached for the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. Once dressed, he padded softly down the hallway into the bathroom, emerging ten minutes later with damp but still stubbornly messy hair.

The kitchens were as clean as always, and the clock above the shelf read half-past five. He snagged a piece of bread from the self-serve counter, which was usually pitifully meagre. Wolfing the slice of bread down, he exited through the back door and crept past the chicken coop. He wormed his way under the back fence that separated the orphanage from the city with little difficulty and dusted his clothes off before walking cautiously down the street.

Five blocks later, he stopped outside a bakery, inside of which a greying, old man was wiping the counter. He looked up at the scruffy but clean boy staring inside and waved at him cheerfully. He waved back in return and waited until the man unlocked the door to enter.

"Good morning Harry! How are you today?"

"Morning Mr. Reeds. I'm alright, I guess."

Gavin Reeds laughed jovially as he led Harry out back, into the store room. "Good, good. You're a persistent little guy, I'll give you that much."

"Thank you sir," Harry replied courteously. "How are the kids?"

"Fantastic; absolutely chipper, especially Michael and Molly. I swear those two have a telepathic link," Gavin pulled out a few plastic bags filled with leftover bread and an assortment of baked goodies. "You sure you want to work for these? I know you'll take them straight back to the orphanage without touching a crumb but it's a good cause. It's just leftovers after all."

Harry shook his head resolutely. "No thank you, sir. I'll clean the floor and windows and I've got some money. How is Mrs. Reeds coming along?"

"You're too damn noble for your own good, kid. If anything, I should be paying you. Ali's getting…well, big is the only word. I'll be buggered if she has another set of twins. Michael and Molly drive Mack around the bend enough already."

Harry grabbed the mop and waited for him to fill the bucket. "No thanks, sir. I've got ten pounds, although I can scrounge up another five later. Chores and all that. Mack is graduating, isn't he?"

"That's right." Gavin lugged the bucket into the store. "You should keep the money, though, Harry. You'll need it to survive out there. Get a job, a good education, a goal, and you'll go far."

"Thank you, sir." Harry plunged the mop into the bucket and lifted it out carefully. He slapped it onto the floor and started working away diligently at the grime.

An hour later, a dark-haired boy clad only in a shirt, jeans and a thread-bare jacket was walking back down the street laden down with bags of food from the bakery. He shuffled up the steps of St. Catherine's Orphanage and knocked on the door, knowing that Janice would already be up.

Sure enough, the door opened and ushered him in to take some of the load off the nine-year-old. She clucked her tongue disapprovingly; not because of him, but what he felt like he should do.

"Really, Harry, you don't have to go to all this trouble," her tone belied the fact that she was appreciative and relieved, though.

"But Ms. Marthis, we can't keep surviving on the government's funds; it decreases each month and we'll starve. Plus, the volunteers won't get paid for their troubles."

Janice shook her head sadly. "You are far too clever and mature for your age, Harry."

Harry piled the bags onto the kitchen table and quietly crept down the hallway to his room. The second he was inside, a brown lump of feathers and sharp talons suddenly assaulted his face, making him fall back outside with a startled yelp. He landed heavily on his backside as he struggled to pry the mass of brown off his face.

Doors opened to allow curious heads to peep out at the commotion, but by the time they saw Harry, the owl was already back in his room. All they saw was a slightly ruffled nine-year-old boy on the ground in front of his room.

"What's the matter, Freak? Scared of your own room?"

Harry scowled darkly and stalked into his private haven amidst gales of forced and not-so-forced laughter. He slammed the door behind him, and glared at the owl staring at him condescendingly, miffed at being thrown carelessly inside. It hooted indifferently as it stuck out a leg weighed down by an envelope. The black-haired boy untied it warily, and upon recognizing the messy scrawl, eagerly tore it open, vaguely aware of the owl flying back out through the window.

_Dear Harry,_

_Harry, where are you? Mum and Dad won't tell me and you've been gone for a long time! They said you weren't coming back, but you will, won't you? I miss you Harry, please come back. Uncle Moony and Uncle Padfoot miss you too. They're sad and Mum was crying. Dad is always stuck in his room now, Harry._

_Please, Harry, come back._

_Hayden._

There were some tear-stains on the parchment, and not all were dry. Harry angrily wiped away his tears, and chucked the letter across the room. His tears soon escalated to gasping sobs, and his chest felt tight and there was a pain. He held his chest tightly, willing the pain to go away. His chest felt as if it were being constricted, and his shallow breathing quickened.

'_They said you weren't coming back…'_

He yelled and brought his small fists down upon the wall angrily.

'_They said you weren't coming back…'_

He beat the wall mercilessly, not noticing the cracks spreading along the plaster. There was a fire burning him, spreading through him, and it hurt, it hurt so badly. It wasn't a physical pain; it was the pain of abandonment.

'_They said you weren't coming back…'_

"_WHY?_" he bellowed. He flung his hand around, subconsciously flinging the lamp on his bedside table across the room. It shattered upon hitting the wall, but the destruction and magical release wasn't enough. He continued destroying his room, wandlessly and non-verbally shattering, breaking, tearing apart the furniture, cracking the plaster on the walls, burning the ceiling, ripping the floorboards apart.

Eventually, he collapsed in the corner, panting heavily and thoroughly drained. He wiped his face, feeling the tears, sweat, dust and plaster clinging to his skin. All throughout his fit of rage, the door had remained closed and no-one had attempted to enter. Confused, and looking to distract himself from the pain, he reached out with his magic and saw a glow of magic around the door.

He eventually discerned it as a silencing charm he had subconsciously cast. He lowered his head into his hands as he took in a deep, shuddering breath.

He stayed that way for a long time, before looking up again with a new resolve in his eyes. When he returned to the magical world, he'd be ready. When they called for him to return, he'd be prepared. He'd practise his wandless abilities and show them what he was capable of.

Setting about repairing the room, which was considerably harder as he had already thoroughly tired out his magic, he slowly and methodically set things right again. He left the burns and pushed all the furniture pieces into the corner, repaired the floorboards and the bed before collapsing and falling into a fitful sleep.

Months later, in late-December, the fire brigade rushed onto the scene of a burning building, smoke rising in dark, choking columns as the fire-fighters hasted to douse the building and rescue the inhabitants.

The fact that it was an orphanage filled with children spurred them on to desperate acts. Around the back, a window was shattered open, unheard in all the commotion. A boy around ten years of age clambered out, falling onto the ground in a heap.

His lungs were filled with ash and smoke, making him cough violently. His thin frame was wracked anew with heaving coughs and wheezes, green eyes shining with moisture from the smoke as he staggered to his feet clumsily.

He stumbled away from the burning orphanage, still in a fit of coughs. His bloodshot eyes roved the surrounding area for any flames, frightened. At the back fence, he crawled under and staggered to his feet. The fire-fighters shouted to each other as they barged through the doors and back out carrying a child or supporting a teenager. Harry stared at the scene in horror, from the bright flames licking the building, consuming it easily, to the children that came back out, burnt, blackened and crying.

He closed his eyes and willed the flames to go out desperately, feeling his magic well up like a fountain and burst in a shower through his body, reaching out to smother the flames. He ignored the exhaustion creeping up on him, thinking of the children that would die within the fiery inferno if he gave up.

The flames hissed angrily, rising higher as the smoke wafted through the air into the night sky. It soon became a stalemate between magic and fire, unseen by all but the small boy standing stiffly, tensely. Harry bit his lip as he poured more and more of his magic out, stretching it out over the flames like a blanket. His teeth gnashed together as he struggled to lower it over the building, fighting the flames and the weariness in his body.

After what felt like hours, the flames relented, and with a great shuddering sigh, died out suddenly. The green-eyed boy collapsed, panting, as the fire-fighters shook themselves out of their shock and hurried into the building to escort the inhabitants outside. Harry watched with relief as each child was rushed out of the building, noting that Janice the desk receptionist did not walk out. He screwed his eyes shut, feeling bitterness and loss choke his throat; knowing that despite being close to the exit, the impassioned middle-aged lady had gone deeper within the bowels of the flames to help the orphans.

He sighed sadly as he stood, swaying slightly, and turned away, to be hidden from searching eyes for months to come.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks if you decided to give this story a go. Now, to clear a few things that might come up later: I am Australian, and therefore do not understand a whole lot about Britain. This is also my first _Harry Potter_ fanfic, so please correct any mistakes you may see.

That's all for now.

**Edited: 15th December, 2008**


	2. 1: To Deceive All Eyes

**The Jaded Brothers: Trials of Magic**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. Any and all infringement is unintended.

* * *

**Chapter I: To Deceive All Eyes**

_July 24, 1991_

Hayden Potter yawned as he tugged on his shirt, grumbled tiredly as he pulled on his jeans and scowled sleepily at his red hair when it refused to submit to his brush.

However, when he picked up his new pair of socks, all his sleepiness disappeared, replaced by a heart-wrenching stab of loss. He let the socks in his hand fall to the ground as he stared up at the ceiling of his room.

The socks from Harry's last prank still remained on the ceiling, clinging stubbornly to the plaster. Hayden sighed, recalling the day nearly three years ago his parents had broken the news to him – and forever changed the life he had known since he had been born.

His parents had come in, looking sad and guilty, and had waited by his bedside until he woke. The looks in their eyes had been enough to tell him something was horribly wrong, but it hadn't prepared him for the full magnitude of the news.

Harry was gone.

He hadn't run away; of course he wouldn't! Hayden knew his twin was happy here, with them, and was clever – far more intelligent than he was.

No, his twin had been sent away – to live in an orphanage.

Hayden had frozen, staring wide-eyed at his father, disbelieving, until the torrent of emotions made him snap. He had cried, unashamedly, angrily, yelling at his parents until his throat felt like it had gone through a meat grinder, beating his small fists against his father's chest angrily until the sobs died away, and he flung himself onto his bed, barely acknowledging his parents' presence on his bed. Once his anger died away, replaced - masked by raw loss and a bitter sadness, his mind shut down for the rest of the day, and he fell asleep, still uncomprehending.

When he awoke, sandwiched between his mother and father, the enormity of his sadness had settled in and overwhelmed him once more and he had cried again, silently, until his parents woke and enfolded him in their arms. The tears had flown freely, until he ran out of tears or simply could not cry anymore. They three of them (He winced at this – it had always been the _four_ of them) had talked over it long and hard – at least, James had. His mother had been silent throughout the whole ordeal, her bright green eyes dull with pain.

Even the fact that they would train him in magic didn't make him any less sad. _'Magic for a brother,'_ he snorted. _'Oh, I know exactly which to pick.'_

And then, Sirius and Remus had come.

The fight that ensued between the four had lasted an hour, and their shouting could be heard all the way from the Quidditch pitch where Hayden had retreated to. Even Uncle Moony, the quietest of the Marauders had shouted his _displeasure_ to all.

The tension between the three Marauders and Lily had risen to an all new high, and for days, weeks, his uncles had only visited to talk to him. Eventually, the _difficulties_ faded away, and all was as normal as ever – except without Harry.

It had been hard to tell who was more pained from his twin's absence – his parents, Uncle Padfoot or Uncle Moony. Harry had always spent more time with Uncle Moony, talking and reading, while Uncle Padfoot tended to spend time with him and his father plotting pranks and playing Quidditch. Of course, Sirius was still fond of Harry (With those shining green eyes and "adorably messy" black hair) and the two would romp around the house, but the fact remained that Harry had been Remus' pride, joy and love and the evidence showed in the werewolf's amber eyes.

James had offered to remove the socks from Hayden's ceiling but the red-haired boy had refused, clinging onto the last memory of Harry stubbornly. Things returned to normal, mostly, and instead of a tense, awkward silence between the adults, a sad, but hopefully happy air returned. The press, as nosy as ever, had clearly noticed the sudden disappearance of the "Twin-Of-The-Boy-Who-Lived" and rushed to find a scandal. Many rumors, some ludicrous, some closer to the truth than was comfortable, had been spread about his twin, ranging from his "angst-driven escape from an abusive, neglected life" to "unfortunate abduction by Death Eaters out of revenge for their Master".

Then there was the post.

The Potter household was pelted with owl after owl after the _Daily Prophet_ had released "the possible and plausible reasons" of Harry's disappearance. It ranged from hate-mail to sympathetic-but-ridiculous letters, from howler to tear-stained parchment. The owls swooped in an out of the windows all day, until James copped a tiny, brown owl, no bigger than his fist, in the mouth. He had promptly scared all the birds out of the house, slammed the doors and windows shut and put up an owl-repelling ward until the frenzy died down.

Hayden sighed and pulled on his socks, leaving the room in its messy state as usual as he went downstairs to the tempting aroma of breakfast. Dropping into a chair at the table, he helped himself to his eggs and bacon with a grunted "morning". His parents smiled at him but shared a worried glance that went unseen.

"So," James started awkwardly, "Hayden… you're turning eleven soon, right?"

Hayden smiled. "Yes, dad."

James grinned widely. "Great! We can have a _huge_ party, with all your friends, and we'll play some Quidditch! How's that sound to you?"

"Don't forget, you're going to Hogwarts this year as well, dear," Lily put in, hoping to steer the conversation away from Quidditch. "Oh, you've grown up so fast, I can hardly believe it!"

"Yes, well…" James looked at Hayden, who was trying to hide his panicked look. "Ah… are you going to join the Quidditch team?" he blurted out, in a desperate attempt to distract his wife.

Needless to say, it worked flawlessly.

"James! First years _cannot_ join the team, you know that!" she scolded him. "With all those players, fifty feet in the air, _bludgers_," she shuddered, "it's _not fit_ for an eleven-year-old!"

"But Lily-dearest!" James exclaimed. "Hayden's been playing since before he was able to walk! A natural in the sky! A talented Chaser! Lily, he could be a pro-Quidditch player!"

If James had thought his words would reassure his wife, he was sorely mistaken. The temperature in the room dropped considerably as his mother's green eyes narrowed.

"You took him out flying before he could walk?" she asked, her voice dangerously soft. James winced and tried to disappear into his seat.

"Well…" he hesitated, looking very much like a deer caught in a headlight. He squirmed nervously under his wife's burning glare.

At that moment, the doorbell rang, followed by a high-pitched, squeaky "house-keeping", complete with girly giggles.

Hayden rolled his eyes as he gratefully slunk away from the table. He opened the door (Ignoring the "_BOO!_") and his eyes brightened upon seeing the two men on the front porch.

"Uncle Moony! Uncle Padfoot!" He grinned widely as he launched himself at the two Marauders.

"Hey kiddo! How're things with the two nannies?"

"_OI!_ I heard that, Padfoot!"

"That was the whole purpose of saying it, Prongs!" Sirius laughed.

Remus cut in as they approached the table. "Now, now, kids, let's not fight."

Sirius sighed long-sufferingly as he responded childishly, "Yes, Grandfather."

Remus scowled as he swatted the back of Sirius' head. "For the last time, Sirius, _I am not old!_"

"Hey! Leave the hair! And besides, _you_ said it, not me!"

"You implied it!"

"Oh, _puh-leeaase!_ When have you ever heard me to insult your intelligence?"

No-one bothered to reply as they turned their attention back to their breakfast. "Oh, fine," the blue-eyed Auror sniffed, "Ignore me. See if it hurts me. OW!"

He rubbed his side gingerly, glaring at an innocent-looking James.

Hayden snorted, muffled by his mouthful of eggs. He took a hasty gulp from his glass of pumpkin juice as Sirius swung around to look at him suspiciously, but promptly spat it out over the toast when a grey, tawny owl swooped in. He ignored his mother's reprimanding "Hayden!" as he eagerly rushed to the owl.

With trembling fingers, he untied the thick envelope from the bird's foot and slit it open; unaware of the silent troupe behind him staring intently as he read the letter… from Howarts.

"…_I'M GOING TO HOGWARTS! I'M GOING TO HOGWARTS! I'M GOING TO HOGWARTS!"_ he yelled ecstatically, bouncing over to show the table. "Look! _Look!_ I'm going to Hogwarts!"

Sirius and James gave a quick once-over on the letter before yelling with Hayden. In the chaos, no-one noticed the pained and haunted look in Remus' eyes. Lily laughed, but there was a hopeful glint in her green eyes.

"_We can get Harry!'_ was the only thing she could think.

**XxX**

Meanwhile, in a small, run-down apartment in London, another soon-to-be eleven-year-old was holding a thick envelope in his hands. The owl perched on the back of the chair was regarding him, waiting patiently. He ran his thumb across the envelope hesitantly, before setting it down on the scratched surface of the table and heading to the sink. He filled a small bowl with water and carried it back to the table, setting it before the owl. It hooted gratefully before dipping its beak into the water.

He ran a hand through his long, unkempt hair, as messy as ever. He was fairly small for his age which helped enormously in hiding and avoiding detection, and thin but strong and tough under the skin from months of street living. His will was even stronger, as was his determination. He stopped by bookstores and public libraries often, whenever he was adequate enough to pass as another normal, scruffy boy.

He sighed, gave up putting off the letter and traced the emerald ink which stated his name and his apartment. He felt a surge of unfounded fear and forced it back down, turning the envelope over in his hands to break the Hogwarts seal.

With stilled hands, he read the letter.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
__(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall  
__Deputy Headmistress_

He paused, still staring at the letter, and closed his eyes with a great, shuddering sigh. He clutched the letter tightly in his fist, and sank into the chair tiredly. The owl hooted questioningly and he smiled at it. He raised a hand to stroke its soft feathers before noticing another slip of parchment fall out. He read it, and paled.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_In light of your circumstances, one of our staff shall be around to assist you at noon today._

_Good day,  
__Albus Dumbledore_

Harry snorted as he slapped the parchment onto the table. The owl looked at him reproachfully, but he didn't notice as he was already making his way to the worn couch, the envelope in one hand.

He dropped onto the couch and arranged himself comfortably as he skimmed over the list of necessities, noting with amusement that broomsticks weren't allowed for first years.

'_Bet Hayden'll love that,'_ he thought wryly before pausing.

Hayden.

He and Hayden were the same age, and his brother would no doubt recognize him, despite having not seen each other in nearly three years. He felt torn; hopeful that his twin would recognize him and that his parents would take him back, and also resentment and an urge to go into hiding.

'_Two years in an orphanage, seven months on the streets,'_ he mused gloomily. _'Wow. A street bum is going to Hogwarts, the best magical school in Europe. Wonder if I can transfer…'_ he sighed. _'That hiding thing doesn't sound so bad…'_

In seven months of living on the streets of London, Harry had quickly grown accustomed and adapted quickly, through lessons that he would never forget – not if he valued his life.

The gangs of London were bad news, always in groups and armed to the teeth. After a nasty encounter barely two days out of the orphanage, he had nearly died, or at least had his eyes gouged out. It was only his wandless magic ability that had helped him manage to escape, with only a few bruises and cuts. Later, he counted his ability a blessing, and set about improving it even further.

A ten-year-old with hardly any experience in street living would usually find themselves dead in a gutter a week, maybe two later. Harry knew that joining a gang was one of the options for survival, but he refused to partake in their _activities_, so he managed on his own.

Galvin Reeds had helped him through some tight spots, and didn't ask questions about some of the sorry states he'd been in. The man merely shook his head disapprovingly, but didn't comment as he fixed up a particularly nasty gash. He often dropped a few hints about visiting (In other words, staying with) his family but Harry always declined. Despite it, Galvin had bought him some contacts.

And now, he would be going to Hogwarts, where his twin, Hayden Alexander Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, would also be attending – not to mention his parents. Would they take him in again? Or his Godfather, Sirius Black? He sighed wistfully, tipping his head back. He knew that if he went, he could hopefully have a home to stay for the majority of the year, a bed, shower, food, and magical education.

Eventually, the option of attending won out, and he scrawled an agreement on the letter underneath the message and handed it to the owl. He watched it soar out the window, soon a dot in the distant horizon and settled back on the couch, tied up in his thoughts.

He could perform wandless magic easily with just a thought but he wanted to hide his ability, which meant he would need a wand – along with other necessities, which would require money. He growled in frustration, berating himself for not thinking that far. Maybe if he found his family…

'_No,'_ he thought stubbornly, cutting off the thought. _'I have to do this alone. Maybe I can speak with the Headmaster and make a deal… but where can I get my stuff?'_

Then it hit him: Diagon Alley.

**XxX**

Minerva McGonagall was not particularly having a good day – far from what she classed as a good day, in fact. She was cold, despite the fur coat of her animagus form, and her nose was itching from the centuries of dust collected in the building, all because of an errand for Albus Dumbledore.

'_I'll never take an errand from him ever again,'_ she mused as she loped up the stairs of a run-down apartment in her animagus form. Upon reaching the fourth landing, she paused and looked around, before slinking down the hallway, glancing up at each door number before moving on.

At door thirty-six, she paused, and was about to transform back into her human form when rough, calloused hands yanked her up into the air. She twisted to find a man, bald with a face like a troll sneering at her.

"No cats up 'ere, lass," he chuckled, and it wasn't a good sound. "They all disappear. No reasons, 'cept fer me."

McGonagall did not like what she heard, so she tried twisting out of his hands, but his iron grip tightened and she stopped. She glanced at door thirty-six and, praying the boy she had been sent to get was home, yowled loudly, hissing and scratching at the man's forearms.

He yelled in pain and fury and threw her away from him, straight at the door –

- And was caught gently in a small pair of hands. She looked up to find a black-haired, green-eyed boy holding her: Harry Potter.

Harry glared at the man and shifted the tabby cat to cradle it against his chest, the other hand moving to something behind his back. The man didn't take any notice of this, spitting with anger as he stepped forward with arms outstretched.

He did notice, however, when he suddenly found himself facing a gleaming, razor-sharp dagger. He eyed the serrated edge nervously and the small ten-year-old boy. McGonagall stared at the boy, amazed at how fast he had whipped the blade out. He stared at the man challengingly, coldly.

"One step," Harry warned him, eyes glinting dangerously. "One step and you'll find yourself missing an eye."

The man flushed a deep purple, eyes darting from the blade to his face before backing away and down the hall. Harry waited until he was out of sight before sheathing the blade and stepping back into his room.

He set the tabby cat on the ground as he bolted the door shut before moving over to the chair. Sitting down, he stared at the cat sitting stiffly on his floor silently as it stared back at him evenly. The two were silent before Harry grinned and settled back.

"I have to admit," he commented casually, glancing at the clock. "The Headmaster has some very punctual staff. Or should I say, he has a very punctual Deputy Headmistress?"

The tabby cat stared at him before transforming into the robed, stern-faced human form of Minerva McGonagall. She stared at him appraisingly before straightening out her robes.

"May I ask how you knew it was I?"

"Certainly, madam," Harry replied without missing a beat, the side of his mouth quirking upwards. He didn't continue though, eyes shining with mischief. She waited patiently, but when it seemed like he wouldn't speak, she asked again.

"How did you know it was I?"

"Well for one thing, you have some marks around your eyes that look like those glasses of yours, and I could see your…" he trailed off, looking hesitant. "You were sitting so stiffly, _too_ stiffly. Far too tense for a cat, you were." He grinned at her cheekily.

McGonagall noticed his slip but let it pass, ignoring the curiosity welling up. Harry, for his part, was inwardly relieved she hadn't questioned him. He wasn't sure whether to tell her of his ability to see magical auras and signatures. In the end, he refrained from doing so, deciding to keep a few secrets to himself.

"Very well then, let's continue. May I sit?" she asked.

He waved a hand to the couch. "Go ahead."

She ignored the offer and instead conjured a chair with a flick of her wand. She noticed the boy watching intently, staring at the chair for a long moment before returning his attention to her. His green eyes betrayed nothing but a flicker of curiosity as he met her gaze evenly.

"Mr. Potter, you were living at St. Catherine's Orphanage in London from the third of October, 1988 to the end of 1990, correct?"

Harry merely nodded his affirmation.

"And you have been living here for how long?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Not sure. 'Bout a month, I guess."

"You are knowledgeable of the Wizarding world?"

"Yep."

"You are aware of how to reach the appropriate stores to buy your school needs?"

"Yep."

"Are you aware of how to reach platform nine and three quarters?"

Harry paused. "…nope. Care to enlighten me?"

She nodded stiffly. "At King's Cross station, between platform nine and ten, there is a barrier. You walk into that barrier and should find it."

He nodded. "Got it: walk into a wall."

"Alternatively," she continued, ignoring his comment, "You may use the Floo Network at the Leaky Cauldron. Simply step into the fireplace and speak very clearly "Platform nine and three quarters".

"I _do_ know how the Floo works."

"There is one other way available to you," she continued sternly. "But with it you must be very responsible." She pulled out a rusted doorknob and handed it to him.

He took it warily, and observed its magical aura. He looked up at the Professor. "This is a portkey, right?"

She nodded appraisingly, "Correct, Mr. Potter. This portkey is set to go at half-past ten on the first of September. Please have it in your hand at that time, or it will leave you behind."

"Right then: I'll take the portkey."

"You are aware that Hayden Potter is attending Hogwarts this year as well?"

Harry didn't answer, though one look at his face gave her the answer she needed. Her stern mask slipped a bit, revealing a concerned expression before she nodded curtly before standing and banishing the chair. "The Headmaster wishes to speak with you, Mr. Potter. Please take my hand. Hold on tightly."

He stared at her warily before standing and taking her hand. A moment later, he felt a strange sensation of being squeezed through a rubber tube, and as he looked around he was immediately blinded by the sheer magnitude of the magical aura. It was bright enough to make him squeeze his eyes shut, feeling disoriented.

When he opened his eyes upon feeling his feet touch ground, he found himself outside the gates of an ancient, majestic castle. His breath caught in his throat as he stared, awestruck, at the beautiful castle. There were four towers and each of them towered high in the sky, making him feel insignificantly small. When he looked through the eyes of his magical sight, he only just managed to keep himself upright, but in the few moments he "saw" the castle, what he saw made him feel… safe, as if he was engulfed in a protective embrace.

McGonagall was already walking past the now open gates and he hasted to follow her, still in awe of the magnificent beauty of the ancient castle.

Inside, the Professor led him through a pair of massive oak doors, through many hallways filled with clanking statues of armour, up several flights of _moving_ stair-cases and finally to a halt before a stone gargoyle.

"Sherbert lemon," McGonagall stated crisply, and at once the gargoyle leapt aside to reveal a spiralling stair-case. Harry numbly followed the Professor onto the stairs and it moved, spiralling upwards to a stop at a door. The Deputy Headmistress knocked on the door and a "come in" drifted from inside. McGonagall pushed the door open, and, nervously, Harry followed.

Immediately, his green eyes were drawn to the large desk directly in front of the door, behind which a white-haired, white-bearded, gaudily-dressed man with twinkling blue eyes behind a pair of half-moon glasses sat (_'That's Albus Dumbledore?'_). The shockingly orange robes were bright enough to almost blind the ten-year-old and he cast his eyes around to avoid the piercing blue eyes.

The Headmaster's office was decorated with the most bizarre of objects, from shiny silver glass-like spheres and oddly-shaped objects. Adorning the walls were a large array of portraits with witches and wizards. Some were pretending to be asleep, but Harry caught one or two sneaking a look under their eyelids. Where there wasn't a portrait, there was a large bookcase, filled with hundreds of thick, dusty tomes. He felt his fingers twitch eagerly, eyes roving over the titles and the sheer amount of knowledge residing in the room.

He forced his eyes away at last, at the same time a soothing trill emanated from his right. He was instantly filled with a sense of comfort and peace, warmed from the very tip of his toes to the ends of his unruly hair. There was a golden stand with a large tray under a perch – and on that perch, was the most beautiful bird Harry had ever seen.

'_A Phoenix,'_ he thought.

He exhaled slowly, staring in rapture at the regal-looking bird. His eyes slid over the red and gold plumage, like a fiery complexion, to the dark eyes staring into his own.

His breath caught as the gaze held him in his spot, transfixed, as he was seemingly laid bare before the analyzing gaze. He stood there for a moment before the Phoenix bobbed its head as if satisfied and broke its gaze as it trilled an affirmative-sounding noise.

There was an amused chuckle and Harry swung around, immediately alert. His darting eyes fixated upon the Headmaster and he relaxed… slightly. He noticed that in his distraction, he hadn't noticed Professor McGonagall leave the room.

"I apologize, my dear boy. It seems that Fawkes has approved of you."

Harry's eyes slid back to the perch briefly. "Fawkes?"

"Indeed. My most trusted friend and most magnificent as well, wouldn't you say?"

"He's beautiful," he agreed, and was rewarded with a pleased sound from the Phoenix. The red and gold bird puffed up its chest and squawked at the Headmaster, eliciting another chuckle. The old wizard turned his attention back to the ten-year-old and gestured for him to take a seat.

"Lemon drop?"

Harry stared at the bowl of yellow sweets. He looked back up at the Professor with a hint of bewildered amusement in his green eyes. "I think I'll pass."

Dumbledore smiled reassuringly as he popped the muggle confectionary into his mouth. The wizard observed him carefully, roving his face, searching his eyes, sliding to his scar. His gaze lingered there, the twinkle suddenly leaving his eyes. He sighed and leaned forward, resting his clasped hands on his desk. Harry stared at him attentively.

"I am immensely relieved to find that you are well and without any lasting injuries from that incident last December. When you could not be found, I feared the worst."

'_I'm sure you did,'_ Harry thought bitterly. "Wait, so my family doesn't know? What about Uncle Remus and Sirius?"

"I thought it best to keep them in the dark until I had some proof of either your death or life, preferably the latter."

"Obviously," smirked Harry.

"Indeed. Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black were most difficult to compromise with, as they wished to take you in themselves."

"Then why didn't they? And why did my parents not want me?"

Dumbledore sighed sadly and set down his tea-cup. "Harry, your family loved you, and when your parents and I reached a… compromise on where you should live, we did it for the best."

Harry raised a brow speculatively. "_Right_," he drawled, drawing out his response. "And I suppose you did it for Hayden, the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"Believe me, Harry, I only did what I thought best for all of you. Although now I see it was the wrong choice." Dumbledore rested his elbows on his desk, the tips of his fingers pressed together. "I wished for you to live with your mother's sister and her family. Your parents objected quite strongly, and urged me to place you with a wizarding family."

"Wait – Petunia Dursley? And her whale of a husband and son? You must be _joking_."

"No, I assure you, I am not."

Harry stared at him incredulously. "What the bloody hell were you thinking? They _hate_ anything that isn't 'normal' or perfect. If you'd placed me with _them_, I'd have been kicked out in a week, tops!"

"What might have happened is not up for debate. As I was saying, your parents wanted you to live with a wizarding family, but it would be too risky to assume you'd be absolutely safe. In the aftermath of Voldemort's death, there were still quite a few loyal followers around. Suppose that word of you living with an easily accessible family had reached their ears and who knows what might have happened."

"You just said what might have happened isn't up for debate."

Dumbledore chuckled, eyes twinkling once more with mirth. "Ah, you are a sharp one. Indeed, we reached a standstill and eventually we decided upon having you live in an orphanage with constant supervision by a trusted wizard or witch."

His interest piqued, he sat up straighter. "Who was it?"

"Do you recall a volunteer helper by the name of Sara Whitaker?"

Harry nodded before his eyes clouded over with pain. "Yeah, she always helped me with any scrapes I had with Emerson. And she brought some muggle books for me as well."

Dumbledore stayed silent, watching him thoughtfully.

"The fire just started suddenly, I think one of the cooks left a stove on or something. I was asleep, and when I woke up the door of my room was blocked. I climbed out the window and ran away. I kinda wished for the fire to go out, and it did. I started living by myself in London, here and there, an alley, a rooftop, until I found an apartment. I've got a job, too. It doesn't pay much, but it's enough for my rent and some food."

Dumbledore stared at him speculatively, yet sadly. "You've led a difficult life, and seen things that shouldn't be seen at your age."

"Yeah, and who've I got to thank for that?" Harry rolled his eyes. He felt satisfaction and strangely guilty when Dumbledore flinched. He sighed. "Forget it."

"… I must say, I was expecting you to hold a grudge against me, what with everything I've done to you."

Harry grunted, "Yeah, well, holding grudges can kill you. You learn that the hard way. Plus, there's no point." He glared at the Headmaster suddenly. "But that doesn't mean I like you."

"I won't ask you to. I've noticed that you do not wear glasses, yet you needed them the last time I saw you. Hayden does as well, now," he stroked his beard thoughtfully, noting the flicker of pain in the green orbs at the mention of Hayden Potter.

"I got around the problem," Harry replied evasively. He suddenly exploded, years of pent-up anger, confusion and betterment bursting out at last. "Why? Why did you just leave me in an orphanage? Was there a reason? Why did you leave me alone for three years with no friends and seven months living completely cut off, all by myself, in London?"

Dumbledore was no longer looking at him, instead gazing at Fawkes as he spoke. "You must realize, Harry, that those times-"

"- Are over," he interjected angrily. "Do you think I'm going to buy that, Professor? Tell me the truth, at least! After three years of living a lie, it's time I have some truth in my life at last, don't you think?"

"Very well." Dumbledore sighed, and Harry was surprised that the old wizard had given in so quickly. "I placed you in the orphanage, Harry, because I feared you were going to be a distraction to Hayden."

Harry bristled silently, but remained silent and attentive.

"I can now honestly say that I regret it, but I wanted to train Hayden to prepare, in magic, and I thought that you might want in as well, or Hayden would complain about you not having to train with him. I feared that you would be jealous, and turn dark. I feared that you would resent your family, your brother, and do something rash and out of spite." Dumbledore looked older than ever now, the ever-constant twinkle in his eyes gone as well. "I feared that you would be the downfall of your brother."

"… Why? What gave you that idea?" Harry took a deep breath, his bright green eyes shining with unshed tears. "What even made you think that I would turn on my brother and my family? That I would intentionally hurt them? You wanted me out of the way. You wanted to prepare Hayden… for what? What is out there that would try to kill my brother? Voldemort?"

"Indeed, I do believe that Voldemort still wishes to harm Hayden Potter."

Harry paused. "So he's not dead? He's still out there, waiting for revenge?"

"Yes," Dumbledore leaned back. "Him, or his few faithful Death Eaters are out there, waiting for the right time."

Harry sighed as he slumped into the chair in front of the desk. Silence reigned as Harry let the new information sink in. The fear he felt for his brother, because of Voldemort, fear _of_ Voldemort, and fear for the world washed over him. Eventually, he looked up, his shoulders slumped. "I think I understand now," he said softly. "I have your reasoning behind my three years alone. I can thank you for that, at least."

Dumbledore inclined his head, wisely not speaking.

Harry fidgeted nervously, before blurting out, "How am I going to go through with this? I want to go to Hogwarts, and I want to see my family, but I'm just not ready yet! I don't want to see them for a while, and I don't want to be recognized as Harry Potter, the Twin-Of-The-Boy-Who-Lived! What can I do?"

Dumbledore watched him carefully before coming to a decision. "Harry, what if a certain Headmaster were to help you enter Hogwarts just as another muggleborn? You'd just be another eleven-year-old boy with a different name and face."

Harry raised a brow. "Headmaster, you are terrible at dropping hints."

"One can never be perfect," Dumbledore replied smoothly.

"There's a catch, though, isn't there?"

"Indeed, there is one: in exchange for my offer, I would like you to watch over your brother and keep an eye on him, at all times, if possible."

Harry sat in the chair, motionless, as he stared at his hands. When he looked back up, the decisiveness and determination in his eyes shone brightly. "Headmaster, I would do that anyway," he whispered softly. "Hayden's my brother; my twin and I would do anything and everything for him." Inwardly, Harry made himself another vow, to keep his brother safe at whatever cost.

"That's all I ask."

"But there's more, isn't there?"

Dumbledore observed him over his half-moon spectacles. "What ever do you mean?"

"There's another reason for me to protect Hayden. It's more than just bullies, isn't it?"

"Indeed there is." He sat back, in his own thoughts for a long while, debating with himself whether or not to divulge the last piece of information he had. In the end, he decided not to. "I shall tell you, but not today. It is not relevant as of yet."

"Fine," Harry's face didn't change at all. "So, Professor, by what façade shall I go on by?"

"Perhaps your first name should be Evan?"

"Okay," Harry nodded. "Evan. I can live with that. What about Jameson for my surname?"

"Perhaps that would be a tad too obvious. Try another."

"Okay…" Harry snapped his fingers in realization. "What about 'Reeds'? And perhaps 'Matthew' for my middle name?"

Dumbledore rolled it over in his head before smiling in acceptance. "Evan Matthew Reeds it is! Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Reeds."

Harry grinned wryly. "I'll have to get used to that."

"Quite right, _Evan_. Now for your image, perhaps if we charm you eyes a different colour, but a simple _Finite Incantatum_ would render that useless. The hair would be quite simple. There are several hair-stylists around Diagon Alley these days and they could easily put some long-lasting dye in your hair. A trim wouldn't hurt as well."

Harry paused uncertainly. "Umm, Headmaster? Why don't I just do this?" And Harry scrunched up hi face, concentrating on a new image.

Dumbledore blinked in surprise when a brown-haired boy of eleven suddenly took the place of Harry Potter. He stared openly at the results of a few subtle changes to the facial structure and the short brown hair that replaced the shoulder-length black hair. And the scar! The lightning-bolt scar on his forhead was gone. He blinked once, twice, before smiling in realization.

"My, my, Evan, you are a metamorphmagus."

Harry scrunched up his face, recalling the lectures Remus had bestowed upon him. "Shape-shifter, right?"

"Correct. Now, regrettably, if you could change those lovely green eyes of yours…"

Harry shrugged and concentrated; thinking, imagining himself with brown eyes. After a moment, he looked back up at Dumbledore who was looking pensive.

"What? Did it work?"

"No, I must say it did not," he stood and walked over to stand by the Phoenix's perch, stroking the bird's red and gold feathers thoughtfully. "Perhaps it is because your great-uncle Albert was a partial metamorphmagus, as are you. He could cause only a few minimal changes to his appearance, mainly his facial structure and height. It seems you can do a bit more than that."

"So what am I going to do with these eyes? My parents and Hayden would recognize them anywhere, as would Uncle Remus and Sirius." Harry scratched his head, running a hand through his now-close-cropped hair.

"Mr. Reeds, in Diagon Alley, I'm sure you'll find many _eye-opening­_ experiences, just a bit further beyond Madam Malkin's."

"As I said before, Headmaster, you are terrible at dropping hints."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled again, sparkling with amusement. "One can never be perfect," he replied. "Now, are you all set to buy your equipment? Know where all the shops are?"

"Yes sir," Harry replied. "Umm, sir? I don't exactly have any money, only a few muggle pounds…"

Albus waved away his concerns. "Not a problem, my dear boy. Should a new muggleborn student with little-to-no money be accepted in Hogwarts, a trust fund would be set up for your seven years of schooling by Gringotts. In fact," he looked out the window, "I believe they have already sent out an owl."

Indeed he was right, as a regal-looking owl soared through the open window at that moment, landing gracefully on Harry's armrest. It stuck out a foot, tied to which was a formal-looking letter. Harry read through it quickly and stared at Dumbledore, who smiled at him benignly.

"That's one problem solved," he said cheerfully, popping another lemon drop into his mouth. "You can go to Diagon Alley now," he gestured towards the fireplace behind his desk. "Off you trot."

Harry nodded numbly, standing up to walk around the desk. He took a pinch of green powder out of a pot hanging on the wall and threw it in, watching as the flames roared to life, green and towering. He was about to step into the flames when Dumbledore spoke again.

"Harry."

Harry turned to face him, staring at the face of the man who had sentenced him to three years of living alone, no matter how inadvertent. In those three years, he had been bullied and shown little love, had left him three years to wonder if anyone even wanted him around. In the last seven months, he had seen death, been close to death, and was more alone than ever. And yet… he couldn't bring himself to hate because of it.

"I'm sorry for the three years of misery I've caused, Harry, for you _and_ your family." The blue eyes were undoubtedly sincere, and Harry sensed that he truly meant it.

Harry stared at him for a long minute, before smiling sadly, bitterly. "You wanted to do it for me, Headmaster, for my safety. You weren't just doing it for Hayden. I can't fault you for that. However, I can fault you for meddling in family affairs, and I'll honestly say that even though I won't be forgiving you for a few months, maybe years, I'm not angry at you."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, entwining his fingers together. "You look like an eleven-year-old, yet you are the epitome of a haunted adult. You've grown up so fast."

Harry turned around, staring into the green flames. "On the London streets, you grow up fast or you don't grow up at all. Tell my family that you couldn't find my body in the orphanage, which is true. You won't have to lie. Goodbye, Headmaster."

He stepped into the fireplace and shouted aloud, "The Leaky Cauldron!" Albus Dumbledore's guilty, sad face disappeared from his eyes, and the next thing he knew, he was sprawled out on the grimy floor of the pub, right in front of a pair of feet. He groaned, but stopped cold when a familiar voice reached his ears.

"Alright there, kiddo?"

Harry stared at the calloused hand extended in front of him, and his eyes travelled up the arm to the very familiar visage of Sirius Black.

**XxX**

Sirius Black was thoroughly confused.

When Remus had said they would split up and grab Hayden's and their own stuff, he didn't realize that he had seriously meant it.

Siriusly.

Chuckling at his own joke (No matter how old), he stared around the Alley teeming with witches and wizards in the hustle and bustle of buying school equipment. No black hair… no red hair… no 'salt-and-pepper' hair…

He frowned and scratched his head. He recalled the four of them (James, Hayden, Remus and himself) stopping for a quick bite in the Leaky Cauldron before heading into the Alley to buy Hayden's equipment, and then he was alone. Lily had declined going with them, saying she needed to meet with Professor Dumbledore and would meet them later. So really, it was a Marauder Journey. Although the Journey had ended rather quickly when Remus had pulled him aside and ordered him to be quick, behave, and follow the list _before_ meeting them at Florean Fortescue's.

'_Behave?'_ he scoffed. _'As if. Wait, what list?'_ He frowned, and struggled to remember what list he could vaguely recall. He remembered Remus staring him down, but that was about it. He shrugged, not in the least bit concerned.

'_Hmm… I'm feeling a bit peckish,'_ he took one last look around before turning and marching straight back into the pub. He waved to Tom, who gave him a toothless grin.

"Back so soon, Mr. Black?"

"Yeah, I'm still a bit hungry," he grinned sheepishly. The barman grinned in return, revealing his toothless gums.

"Be with you in a moment, Mr. Black. Just find a seat," before he had even finished speaking, he had rushed back into the kitchen. Sirius chuckled and weaved around a pair of witches laden down with books and robes. He winked at a long-haired witch sitting at the bar and was just about to stride across the pub to said witch when there was a sudden flash of green and a flurry of movement to his right. He jumped clear as a small, brown-haired boy of about eleven tumbled none-too gracefully out of the fireplace.

Snapping out of his immediate surprise, he extended a hand to help the boy up. "Alright there, kiddo?"

The boy froze, and then he slowly sat up and looked up at his face, only to duck his head back down, probably in embarrassment. Sirius was startled when he thought he saw sparkling green eyes, pained and surprised, but shivered as he forced those eyes out of his mind.

The boy took his hand tentatively, still looking at his shoes. Sirius hauled the boy gently upright. "First time out of the Floo, kid?"

The boy hesitated before nodding briefly. Sirius was a little put-off with his reluctance to speak but covered it well. He waved his wand and was aware of the boy tensing ever-so-slightly; only to relax when the soot collected on his clothes, face and arms vanished.

"Thanks," he mumbled, still not looking up.

"No problem, kid. Muggleborn?" The kid nodded nervously, and, being Sirius, he didn't question how the boy had managed to reach a fireplace connected to the Floo in the first place. "Ah. Going to Hogwarts, right? Well, I won't keep you. Go on…" he trailed off. "What's your name?"

"… E-Evan Reeds, sir," he mumbled hesitantly.

"Okay then, Evan. A word of advice for Hogwarts: if you see a greasy git – err, Professor, prank him to the ends of the earth! Try using a bucket of shampoo, we haven't tried that yet," he whispered, the last sentence coming out pensive. The Auror shook himself out of his daydreams and patted Evan on the back gently. "Go on, Evan. Have a good school year!"

"Thanks, sir," was the mumbled response before he rushed out to the courtyard, stopping to speak briefly with Tom on the way, where another couple had just tapped the brick.

Sirius shook his head amusedly, before taking the tray of food from Tom happily, all thoughts of green eyes leaving.

He devoured the food hungrily, only looking up twice when a flood of red-heads tumbled from the Floo one-by-one and two nervous couples and a bushy-haired girl entered via the front door, all three dressed in muggle attire.

He settled back contentedly with a sigh just as James, Remus and Hayden walked through the courtyard door. They saw Sirius and headed over to drop into chairs at his table, the two other Marauders scowling darkly at Sirius. He returned their looks, baffled.

"What?"

As one, James and Remus dropped their heads onto the table heavily, emitting a groan as they did so. Sirius stared at their hair, before glancing at Hayden. "What? Did something happen?"

Remus' head shot up so fast that he heard a pop. "Rather, something did _not_ happen! _Someone_ forgot what they were supposed to do!"

"Who?"

James cried out exasperatedly, ignoring the looks many people were sending their way – or, more specifically, in Hayden's direction. "Padfoot, you are impossible!"

Remus glanced at James worriedly. "Uh, James? Are you actually acting _responsible_?"

The black-haired Marauder ignored Lupin's statement, ploughing on with a pained look on his face. "We were supposed to go to Fortescue's, Padfoot! _Fortescue's!_ Ice-cream! _Why_ must you rob me of my one and only source of comfort?" he wailed despairingly.

Remus rubbed his face wearily. "Nope, you're absolutely fine," he muttered to himself. He glanced at Hayden, who was itching to go back to Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"Hey! I thought your 'source of comfort' was Quidditch!"

Remus snapped. "Okay, you two, we are going to finish this shopping trip _right_ now! And then we're going home! _No_ ice-cream!" He then proceeded to dash Sirius' plotting grin quickly with his next words. "And no, we will not be going to the joke shop, Sirius."

The four of them left again, one leading, two grudgingly following and a red-head bouncing alongside them. Sirius tossed some galleons to Tom as he passed and they opened the arch to Diagon Alley… again.

**XxX**

Harry, in his guise of Evan M. Reeds, stopped just outside the doors of Gringotts, watching the Alley slightly below him as crowds of witches and wizards laughed as they shopped, talked, and ate. He smiled, watching some other kids his own age run around, laughing, as they out-ran their exasperated parents. He saw a flash of red hair and was instantly alert, a knot growing in his stomach, but it soon turned out that it was a whole family of red-heads, not just a mother and her son. He sighed, but was aware that he needed to hurry and complete his disguise.

With one last lingering look, he stepped down the stairs lightly and was soon lost in the throng of the crowd. He weaved his way around the witches and wizards with ease, months of practise setting him on edge, his eyes darting every which way. His green eyes slid from one person to the next, taking note of their stature, their expressions, and their physique. He took note that most of them were oblivious to anything below their eye-level, and used it to his advantage.

A few boys and girls smiled at him but he quickly ducked behind and into another crowd whenever someone did. His eyes flickered back and forth between the shops as he walked, searching for the eye-wear shop. And there, just as Dumbledore had hinted, just beyond Madam Malkin's, was a small, brooding shop with peeling letters over the doorway.

_Erin's Eye-Wear_ was the simple title. He stood stock-still for a moment before moving forward and shuffled his way into the store.

He eyed the interior with interest, noting the many rotating stands adorned with spectacles and sunglasses. A shelf lined the back wall, with boxes and examples of the wide variety of contact lenses: clear, coloured, self-prescribing, water-proof, and even a pair of sparkling contacts. He snorted inwardly with amusement.

The shop seemingly devoid of all life, and was surprisingly clean, not at all the dusty, gloomy inside he had expected.

'_Appearances can be deceiving,'_ he chastised himself. _'I guess with little-to-no customers, the owner had to pass the time with cleaning.'_

He approached the counter cautiously, and saw a strange-looking bundle of robes on the cushy chair. He rang the bell quietly, then louder, and was surprised when the bundle of robes leapt up, revealing a plump, stout witch with greying hair and hazel eyes. She looked around wildly before her eyes settled on Harry, and a wide grin broke out on her face.

"Ah! Good morning! I was wondering if I would ever have a customer, and was just beginning planning to just pack up and move to America!" she shook her head amusedly. "Goodness me, I'm already rambling. Sorry, dear, what can I do for you? I'm Erin Mecoif, but please do call me Erin."

Harry shook her proffered hand, amused by the witch's bright and talkative nature. After months deprived of intelligent conversation, he enjoyed the carefree voices of happy people. "Evan Reeds, ma'am," he told her. "This is a very well-kept store you have."

The witch blushed modestly but smiled. "Thank you, Evan. May I call you Evan? It's a lovely name for such a nice young man like you. Not too many nice ones around anymore. Oh, dear me, I'm rambling again. So sorry, my dear," she giggled, apparently amused with herself.

Harry smiled in return. "Ma'am, I'm looking for some contacts?"

"Well, you've come to the right place, my dear," she gushed, obviously excited to finally have a customer. Her excitement was infectious, and soon Harry was grinning from ear to ear, eyes shining as he followed the witch through the small shop. "Are you wearing some now?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Oh, please do call me Erin. 'Ma'am' just makes me feel so old," she was peering at the boxes intently, her professional tone masking her tendency to ramble. "What types would you like? Here you go, dear. These are testing contacts, designed to test your prescription, and then we can start buying."

Harry popped out his old contacts and pushed the test ones in, watching as his vision blurred, shifted, and suddenly cleared, clearer and sharper than it had ever been. He blinked in amazement before grinning and handing them back to the witch. "Umm, some coloured, please, and one pair of clear."

"Of course." Erin scrutinized the test contacts before nodding in satisfaction and leading him to another section of the shelf. "Would you like for them to be spelled to prevent being taken out by anyone but yourself? We also have some water-proof ones, and even ones that will adjust in the sunlight to prevent you from being blinded."

"Umm…" Harry pondered the wide variety of choices. "I didn't realize there was so much…"

Erin chuckled. "In the muggle world, there isn't."

"Right then… I think I'll take those three extras."

Erin nodded in satisfaction. "Coming right up."

Ten minutes later, Harry was sporting a pair of brown-coloured contacts and a bag of his other purchases tucked securely into his pocket. He threaded through the crowd, heading towards Madam Malkin's and ducked under the waving arms of a gesticulating wizard.

The bell above the door tinkled and Harry cringed, before straightening as a squat, smiling witch in mauve hurried to him.

"Hello," Harry started awkwardly. "I'm, uh, looking for some robes for…"

"Hogwarts?" She finished knowingly. "Of course dear, just around here. We've another two being outfitted right now."

"Thanks…" Harry followed her into the back of the shop, and stopped dead.

There were two other boys, standing on stools and ignoring each other. One was a blond-haired he didn't recognize, the other was a red-head with infinitely-messy hair, hazel eyes, and an 'X'-shaped scar on his left cheek. Harry felt his blood run cold and rush through him at the same time; he felt a sudden knot twist in his gut and at a the same time, a feeling of inexplicable joy well up inside him.

But then reality set back in and he was reminded of how his twin had been raised with love and affection showered upon him; raised to be something that prevented Harry from having family.

He swallowed and stepped onto a third stool, uncomfortably aware of the two other boys gazing at him none-too subtly. He felt old wounds reopen as he saw how well-kempt Hayden looked, minus the hair, both boys garbed in robes of fine material and looked down at his rumpled, slightly-small muggle clothes. He was suddenly immensely glad he was wearing one of his cleaner pairs.

The blond had apparently seen them too, and sniffed disdainfully as he turned his nose up. Hayden, meanwhile, was staring at him curiously. He didn't seem at all bothered by the brown-haired boy's ruffled, street-look. Eventually, he broke the silence as Madam Malkin pinned some robes to his body.

"Hi, I'm Hayden Potter. Are you going to Hogwarts too?"

Harry nearly jumped, startled. He regained his bearings and nodded, glad that he had gone to the eye-wear shop first. "Yeah, I'm Evan Reeds."

Hayden opened his mouth again when the blond interjected snidely, "You wouldn't know who I am, would you, you filthy little _mudblood_."

Madam Malkin had disappeared into a store room, but Hayden snarled furiously at the blond aristocrat. "Shut your trap, Malfoy, muggleborns are just as good as purebloods."

Malfoy sneered at him, "Ooh, touched a nerve have I? Temper, temper, _Potter_, it wouldn't do for the Boy-Who-Lived to lose his public image now, would it?"

Harry butt in, attempting to diffuse the situation before Madam Malkin came back. He decided to play the ignorance card, putting up a façade of a muggleborn. "'Boy-Who-Lived'?" he asked softly, capturing the attention of the other two.

Malfoy sneered. "Potter here is a blood-traitor, but everyone ignores that because he's the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. One day, you'll be sorry, Potter."

Hayden opened his mouth again, but at that moment, Madam Malkin returned and handed a bundle of robes to Malfoy. "There you go, dear. That's you done." She turned to Hayden as Malfoy strutted out. "Now, Mr. Potter, arms out, please."

Hayden complied readily, looking over at 'Evan'. "So, did you just find out that you're a wizard?"

Harry nodded hesitantly. "Yeah." Deciding to get into his façade, he asked a few questions, keeping a nervous look on his face.

"So what is a 'mudblood'?"

Hayden's face darkened. "It's a foul name, used by pureblood wizards that think muggleborns are inferior. It's the worst insult you can call someone, and coming from Malfoy, that's saying something." At 'Evan's' inquiring look, he elaborated. "Draco Malfoy is the son of Lucius Malfoy, and they're both pureblood elitists. Lucius Malfoy is a politician, and my dad says that he's highly influential as well. He was a part of You-Know-Who's inner circle of Death Eaters during the First War, but when it ended and You-Know-Who disappeared, he claimed that he had been under the Imperius curse."

"First War? Imperius curse?" Harry queried, but Madam Malkin interrupted and handed a bundle to Hayden, who hopped off the stool and nodded his thanks to the squat witch.

"Maybe later, Evan. I'll see you at school?" At Harry's nod, he grinned crookedly. "Right then, later."

And with a tinkle of bells, his twin brother left, leaving Harry to brood as Madam Malkin pinned robes to his frame. She eventually smiled at him and handed him his own robes as the tapes and pins magically measuring him fell to the ground.

He left quickly, heading for the Leaky Cauldron to store his purchases in his room in the Leaky Cauldron.

**XxX**

Lily Potter hurried through the Alley, the sun setting slowly. Its red-orange glow lit up the Alley beautifully, but Lily didn't stop to admire the scene. She was still struggling to hold back tears, the news Albus had just broken to her still settling in. She could not, at first, believe what he had said. She wouldn't.

But he had given her the file of Harry James Potter, resident of St. Catherine's Orphanage, which had gone up in flames in December last year. And no-one, not even wizards, had been able to find Harry.

A part of her still stoutly refused to believe her baby was dead, yet another part of her did, and the internal war was slowly tearing her apart. She brushed at her eyes impatiently, willing her tears to leave.

When she saw Ollivander's up ahead, she stepped up her pace and hurried in to find James, Sirius, Remus and Hayden already inside, Mr. Ollivander already handing a wand to the red-haired boy.

"Try this, Mr. Potter: cedar, nine inches, and hair of a unicorn tail."

Hayden made to wave the wand, but the old man whisked it out of his hands before he could. The three Marauders were sitting in the spindly chairs, watching amusedly. Lily sat down next to her husband quietly, putting on a happy face, but James saw through her mask immediately. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed gently.

"What's wrong, Lily?" he asked her softly. She shook her head, mouthing a 'later' before returning her attention to Hayden, who had just received another wand only to lose it again.

"Mahogany, ten and a half inches… no, no, no, not quite right. Here, willow, eight and a quarter inches."

And on, and on, and on it went. Ollivander was becoming increasingly excited, and eventually pulled out a dusty box, holding it almost reverently. He carefully pulled out the wand, and Lily didn't miss the anticipatory gleam in the man's eyes. She sat up straighter, almost expecting something to happen.

"I wonder…" the silver-eyed man murmured to himself as he handed the wand over to Hayden.

Hayden grasped it tightly, and a few, dull-coloured, golden sparks jumped out of the wand tip, but nothing else. Hayden looked up. "It feels… warmer than the others I've tried so far, but not by that much."

"I see," Ollivander said, looking perplexed. He stared at Hayden curiously before taking the wand back. "Not to worry. We've plenty more wands."

After another half a dozen, they found the right wand for Hayden. A twelve inch-long, cherry-wood dragon-heartstring wand. James, Sirius and Remus clapped and cheered wildly, while Lily beamed at the red-haired boy.

The wand-maker was just packing the wand into a box when the door opened and the bell tinkled gently. Lily felt a sudden surge of familiarity when a brown-haired, brown-eyed boy walked in nervously. His eyes seemed to widen slightly upon seeing the large crowd of people. He ducked his head down shyly but looked up once again when Hayden exclaimed, "Evan!" happily.

"Hi," 'Evan' smiled at Hayden. "Getting your wand?"

"Yep," Hayden smiled proudly. "C'mere, Evan! This is my dad, James Potter, and this is my mum, Lily. And these two…" Hayden gazed at Remus and Sirius thoughtfully. "They're just sidekicks," he grinned. "Everyone, this is Evan Reeds, a new student at Hogwarts this year as well."

"_Sidekicks_? _Sidekicks_?" Sirius exclaimed incredulously. "I, good sir, am Sirius Black, Auror Extraordinaire, kick-ass wizard, and all-round good guy. But we've already met, right kiddo?" Sirius grinned as he shook Evan's hand.

"Yeah," Evan muttered. Then Remus stepped forward, a calculating gaze in his eyes.

"Remus Lupin," he greeted. "Nice to meet you."

"And you," Evan muttered, fighting the urge to throw his arms around the amber-eyed wizard. He had repressed the same urge with his parent and Sirius well enough, but with the werewolf, the urge welled up inside his body, insisting upon being let out. The two shook hands before Evan nodded politely to James and Lily, stepping back to stand by the window.

With the payment done, the wand and all the other purchases the large group had made, they stepped through the door with a brief round of farewells with the boy named Evan Reeds. As Remus exited the door, a familiar scent tickled his nose, the identity of which escaped his grasp irritatingly.

He shook his head as he followed his friends to the apparition point; one by one, they apparated back to Potter Manor, James with Lily, Sirius gripping Hayden's shoulder firmly, and himself bringing up the rear.

Had he lingered by the doorway of Ollivander's a moment longer, he would have heard, with his enhanced hearing, the wand-maker greet the boy with the name he least expected. Had he stayed a while longer, he would have been able to place a name and face to the scent he had caught. Had he stayed, Harry Potter's plan to stay hidden would have been ruined.

But he didn't stay. And as he apparated back to Potter Manor with no name and face to place with the scent, he found himself thinking about Evan Reeds, muggleborn first-year. And when he arrived at Potter Manor, all thoughts about Evan Reeds disappeared when Lily ushered Hayden upstairs to unpack all his new equipment and the adults into the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, the four adults were sitting around the table each with a cup of tea.

"I saw the Headmaster today."

Lily's abrupt statement startled all of them, but Lily ignoed them as she went on.

"I met with him, and talked with him."

The three Marauders shared a glance when Lily continued to stare into the steaming liquid in her cup. James cleared his throat as he set down his tea.

"What did you talk about?"

"… Harry."

The effect was instantaneous as James froze, Sirius gulped down a steaming mouthful of tea, and Remus' cup shattered as it hit the kitchen floor. No-one bothered to clean up the mess, and neither did Sirius wail about his burning mouth. They were all staring at Lily, holding their breaths.

"Harry's not at the orphanage anymore."

"You mean…" James swallowed a lump in his throat. "You mean, he's coming home?"

"… no. H-he…" Lily sighed as he buried her face in her hands. "The orphanage burned down last year, in December, and… and… they couldn't find Harry."

Everyone jumped away in surprise as Remus threw his chair against the wall angrily, his eyes flashing dangerously. He snarled at James, "If you had just let him stay with me, even Sirius, Harry wouldn't be…" he growled as he stalked out of the kitchen, his thin frame trembling with barely-suppressed rage.

"Wait! Remus! Where are you going?" James cried out.

"I'm going to see the Heamaster," Remus hissed, swinging around to stare at James challengingly. "I've a few words to say to him." He left abruptly, heading to the fireplace, and in a flash of green, he was gone. James returned to his seat miserably, neglecting to clear the remnants of Remus' tea.

Sirius stared at the table in shock, until he looked up and his eyes fixated upon a figure in the doorway.

"Lily… how?" James gazed at his wife.

"They don't know. There's a probability that a fire was left on in the orphanage and it spread quickly. Most of the children got out, but some didn't. Sara Whitaker, the witch watching over Harry didn't make it as well. The entire building was burned to the ground, James, I saw the photo! Harry's body was never found, and they believe he is among the ashes."

James sighed, tears trickling down his face, but when he looked up he froze.

Hayden Potter stared back, a torrent of emotions warring for control on his face. Anger, hurt, loss, disbelief, denial, bitter resentment, and dawning horror. He stared at the three adults, and it was without a doubt that he had heard every word.

"Why?" he whispered, before he fled through the house and out back, racing for the Quidditch pitch desperately, tears flying as he grabbed a broom and flew around the pitch recklessly, angrily, unaware of time as he fought to control his emotions.

He would never be able to see his brother again. Never be pranked by his twin, or prank his twin in return again. He would never be able to fly with Harry, never be able to talk, to hold, to see Harry again.

Harry James Potter had disappeared from his world.

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry about the wait, everyone. School just started and I got little time to work on this. Luckily, it was almost done when school began so it only took a few days. Now I'm not going to lie, and the next chapter will take maybe three weeks, four possibly, to finish, and I apologize in advance if it comes later than you or I expect.

Thanks for the reviews! You guys are too kind, and don't be afraid to tell me anything that's wrong with my plot or something.

**Edited: 15th December, 2008**


	3. 2: Welcome to Hogwarts

**The Jaded Brothers: Trials of Magic**

By Blueberry Blaster

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. Any and all infringement is unintended.

* * *

**Chapter II****: Welcome to Hogwarts**

_September 1, 1991_

At half-past ten at King's Cross Station, between platforms nine and ten, there is a barrier, of sorts, that hides another entrance between the non-magical and magical world.

The barrier, disguised as just another brick wall, was the gateway to platform nine and three-quarters.

Beyond the barrier was a large, spacious platform, with a magnificent, red steam train waiting to leave. There was a steadily growing crowd of people milling about the platform, jumping on and off the train, or just standing with their families as they awaited the start of their school year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The people, magical as they were, weren't in the least surprised when a small brown-haired boy of about eleven appeared seemingly out of thin air, clutching a rusted doorknob. His trunk was on the ground next to him and he nearly fell, almost tripping over his brown trunk.

Harry James Potter, under the guise of Evan Matthew Reeds, shoved the doorknob into the pocket of his threadbare jacket, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets as he stared around appreciatively. He smiled when he saw the train, and pulled his trunk along behind him as he tugged it onto the red locomotor. In the empty corridor, he glanced both ways before dragging his trunk behind him to a compartment near the back.

Once he had stowed his trunk securely away, he hopped off the train once again and walked around, watching as a mother and her daughter materialized from a solid brick wall. He stared as the father and younger brother followed soon after. There was also a marked off space near the back, and as he watched, two Hogwarts students appeared out of thin air with a loud _crack_.

Harry stared around interestedly, noticing the same blond-haired boy from Madam Malkin's, this time with his mother and father.

Lucius Malfoy stood tall, shoulders squared, head held high, a gold-topped cane in his gloved hand. His wife, Narcissa Malfoy, was holding herself like royalty, her black hair hanging down her back like a glimmering curtain.

He looked away as Malfoy Jr. immediately started complaining aloud about the train. He was speaking loudly enough for anyone out on the English Channel to hear, but Harry tuned him out disinterestedly, his brown eyes roving around the platform once more before he boarded the train again.

The many compartments were fast filling up, with many more students greeting each other excitedly as they stowed their trunks. Harry weaved through the corridor easily before ducking into his compartment. The entire time he had been clutching his dagger within his jacket, in a hand-made sheath sewn into the inside of his clothing.

His long-sleeved shirt concealed his wand holster and his wand: holly, eleven inches and the tail feather of a phoenix.

Even with these, he had stuck another dagger into his boot, only feeling relatively comfortable with going to Hogwarts with a small array of weaponry.

He sank into the cushy chair gratefully after closing the door, settling back comfortably. He eased the curtains closed slightly, leaving it open a crack to allow him to see the platform. He scanned the crowd outside intently, and not seeing a family of black, red and sandy-brown hair, he allowed himself to relax. His eyes slid closed as he nestled into the corner.

After what barely seemed like five minutes, he was jerked awake by a sudden jolt, as the train shuddered and rolled forward, slowly at first, then quickly gathering speed as it left platform nine and three-quarters. Harry glanced out the window and his eyes were immediately drawn to a red-haired girl trying to keep up with the train, crying or laughing, maybe both, as she waved goodbye, probably to her siblings.

He yawned and stretched, before snapping to attention when the door to his compartment slid open abruptly, revealing a gangly, freckled boy with the same red hair as the girl back on the platform.

"Err, hi," the boy greeted nervously, shifting uncomfortably. "Can I sit with you? All the other compartments are full."

Harry gestured to the empty seats. "Help yourself," without another word, he settled back into a comfortable position, not in the mood to talk. He was vaguely aware of the other boy's incessant fidgeting, and repressed the annoyance he felt. Apparently, the other boy felt rather awkward with the silence and displayed it quite obviously.

"So, err…" the red-head cast around wildly for topics of conversation. "I'm Ron Weasley. I haven't seen you around before."

"That would be because I'm a muggleborn," Harry lied smoothly.

"Oh," was the eloquent reply.

Harry turned his head again, to face out the window, staring at the landscape as it sped by in a blur of colour. Just when he thought that Ron would be quiet, he was proven wrong.

"So, what's your name?"

Harry didn't speak, deliberating over whether or not to answer. The boy seemed unnerved by his reluctance to speak and with a sigh, settled into his own seat. Ron stared gloomily at the ceiling of the compartment when the brown-haired boy suddenly spoke, startling him out of his reverie.

"Evan Reeds."

"Sorry?"

Harry turned slowly to stare at the red-head, his brown eyes boring into Ron's. "You asked for my name. I told you."

"Oh," Ron seemed uncomfortable, the tips of his ears flushing a brilliant scarlet. Interesting. "Evan Reeds?"

Harry chose not to make a sarcastic remark, settling for a sharp nod before turning to the window again. The two sat in silence; Harry brooding, Ron squirming uncomfortably. The compartment door slid open again, revealing another red-haired boy, but one with a quite prominent 'X'-shaped scar on his left cheek.

"Umm…" Hayden glanced at the two uncertainly, aware of Ron's awed stare and Evan's calculating gaze. He was accustomed to the stares – the reverent whispers, the teary gazes, the public's reaction to the very mention of his name – but Evan's unusual mood (compared to his previously shy appearance) unnerved him slightly. The muggleborn looked as if he gone through a rough time, if the shadows under his eyes and the slight swelling near his temple were any indication – not to mention the scabbed cut on the side of his neck, partially concealed by the hood of the black jacket he was wearing.

"Do either of you mind if I sit here with you? Only, I don't feel comfortable with anyone else."

Ron shook his head eagerly, "No, of course not! Go ahead," he was almost trembling with excitement and his voice – slightly choked and distinctly higher-pitched than before – was tinged with awe. Harry snorted inwardly, but outwardly shrugged and waved a hand flippantly when Hayden gazed at him questioningly.

"Thanks," Hayden gratefully heaved his trunk up beside Ron's and Evan's before sinking down next to Evan. He held out a hand to Ron, who took it with a trembling hand.

"Hayden Potter – nice to meet you. Weasley?"

"Y-yeah," Ron gulped, and inwardly, Harry smirked. "I'm Ron Weasley. It's ni… it's an honor to meet you."

Hayden laughed, and Ron seemed unsure of himself, perhaps wondering if he said something wrong. "Nice to meet you too, Ron. How are you, Evan?"

Harry watched his face, taking in the slight hollowness in his cheeks. _'I think the Headmaster told them,'_ he mused, and strangely, didn't feel a pang of sadness with the thought of the Potters grieving over his apparent death. Instead, he felt sorry for his brother.

"Fine," was his curt reply and then he turned back to the window.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hayden glance questioningly at Ron, who shrugged helplessly.

Silence settled over the three again, before the compartment was invaded _again_, this time by a pair of identical red-head boys. The two twins, apparently, started speaking to Ron, before they turned and noticed him and Hayden. Predictably, they gawped at the eleven year old, eyes sliding automatically to his left cheek. They swallowed and introduced themselves, bright smiles fixated upon their faces again.

"Hi," said twin one.

"I'm Fred," continued twin two.

"And I'm George," finished twin one.

"This is our brother, ickle Ronnikins-"

"- And we are pleased to make your acquaintance."

"… Nice to meet you too," Hayden remarked. The twins nodded, and turned back to their brother who had gone bright red. Harry idly thought he looked similar to a ripe tomato.

"Ron, Lee's got a tarantula-"

"- We'll just be down a few compartments –"

"- In case you need us, as Mum has appointed us temporary bodyguards," added Fred or George, throwing his chest out pompously.

"So we shall bid our farewells –"

"- And make do with all haste."

"Ta-ta, now! Pleasure meeting you, Hayden."

"See you in Gryffindor."

Then it was just the three of them again. Harry let his eyelids droop, trying to ignore the other two completely, except his burning curiosity won out over his stubbornness. Months of less-than-adequate amounts of sleep started to steal over him, and he stifled a yawn.

"So, do you play Quidditch?"

"Of course! I play Chaser, although my dad said I would make a decent Seeker, although that's more Harry's…"

There was a sudden silence, and Harry suspected that Hayden had faltered, realizing hat he had been about to say and was brooding, with the way he could just ­_hear_ Ron shuffling around restlessly.

At this point, Harry gave in to his lingering weariness, and dropped off to blissful oblivion.

Immediately, he found himself in a run-down room, and it was awhile before he realized it was his apartment back in London. Looking around, he noticed a few subtle differences, the main one being that the small window was a dusty, hazy mirror. He walked across the room to it, his legs obeying a subconscious will.

Upon reaching the mirror, he wiped the grimy surface with the sleeve of his jacket, watching with growing trepidation as the mirror cleared to reveal a reflection, but not _his_ reflection… at least, he hoped it wasn't.

Blood-red eyes stared back, not the red that came with lack of sleep, but a truly evil cesspool of blood. The pale face sneered, the high cheekbones and hollow cheeks standing out. The dark, wavy hair contrasted immensely with the pallid skin, and the entire aura of the strange being reeked of malicious intent, an alluring sadist with power emanating from the very pores of his skin.

And as Harry watched, the face morphed, started twisting in a way that made him feel queasy, and shifted slowly from an unfamiliar face to a horribly familiar face, one that was similar to his own.

The green eyes were gone, instead blood-red, just like the face before, an empty void where emotions should have been shining, the black hair was messy, but this time it seemed to add to the persona of evil. The lips were drawn back in a silent snarl, hateful and vicious. There was a burning fire in the eyes that screamed revenge, over and over, until Harry couldn't stand it any more.

But worse still, the scar was there, a lightning bolt on the forehead above the right eye, and it was pulsing madly, violently, with a dark aura blacker than the night sky, blacker and bleaker than a dementor's presence… Harry screamed.

His mouth opened oh its own accord, screaming silently, unheard, as his mind pleaded, _'no more, no more, no more, please no more!'_

Then suddenly, everything disappeared.

Harry stared around at the white expanse, stretching out as far as the eye could see. He turned slowly, seeing nothing but white, plain, boring white, until a small dot of twinkling blue and yellow caught his attention.

It was far away, in the distant horizon, but was fast growing larger and more prominent. For what seemed like days, he watched the thing, until it was less than three feet away and he realized what it was.

Or rather, _who_ it was.

Albus Dumbledore stood before him, garbed in blue and yellow robes. His half-moon spectacles were there, but the twinkle in his eyes were gone.

"Harry…"

Harry jumped, before realizing that the Headmaster had spoken, except it sounded nothing at all like the Headmaster's voice.

"Harry."

Harry stared at the Professor, starting to feel a prickle of anxiety. His gut twisted, and lurched, but he remained still.

"I cannot risk it, Harry."

Dumbledore stepped forward, and for an instant, he thought he saw the blue eyes flash red.

"It's too dangerous."

'_W-what?'_ He wanted to say it aloud, but his mouth could not work, and he could only think.

"I need Hayden, and you are a distraction."

Harry felt his insides turn to ice, a feeling as if cold mercury was running through his veins.

"He has his destiny, and you are a liability."

Harry felt his anger grow and the pounding in his ears grew louder.

"You would be in the way, and I simply cannot have anything obstruct Hayden's path."

'_WHAT!'_ Harry tried to speak, to move, but found his feet were stuck fast to the ground. From his feet, he could _feel_ a blackness spreading, covering the white expanse.

"I wish that I did not have to do this, but it is the only way."

All of a sudden, Harry could see that a wand was in the old wizard's hand. He stared, numb, as Dumbledore raised it, the tip pointing between his eyes. Vaguely, he wondered if his eyes were green, as he tried to break free from the invisible hold on his body.

Dumbledore's mouth opened, and Harry stared in fascination, a feeling of dread welling up inside him as the sound of his voice rose above the pounding of his heart.

"…_Obliviate!_"

Harry yelled, tried to yell, screaming obscenities at the Headmaster, but as he watched, the face of the wizard melted, changed, into a pallid face that had slits for a nose and narrowed, red eyes. The man was dressed in black robes, his pale, spindly fingers gripping a pale wand. Dumbledore's voice was masked, suddenly, by a different voice, and different words.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Harry screamed, and he suddenly fell, into a dark void filled with whispering voices, shadows of faces flitting past him as he fell.

Hayden's face swooped up to him, keeping pace as gravity pulled him down, deeper and deeper.

"Harry! Come back! Please!"

The shadow floated away, pained, to be replaced by the face of his father.

"No, son! Hold on!" His face floated away too, but not before an anguished, "I'm sorry!" reached his ears.

Then the shadow of his mother came up, tearful. "Harry! _Harry!_"

He tried to scream. Tried to call for his mother, his father, for Hayden, for help and he yelled until his throat was sore.

"Kiddo! Harry! Please, hold on!"

Sirius Black's face floated past and was gone, even as Harry attempted to swipe it out of the air.

And then, with no warning at all, everything stopped.

Harry stared, as the darkness seeped away from him, and he felt his feet touch solid ground. He looked around, noticing that he was in a hallway of some sort, before realizing that it looked like on of the many corridors of Hogwarts. The statues of knights were gone, as were the portraits; it was empty, devoid of all life.

With nothing else to do, he walked.

He caught himself counting absent-mindedly, until he caught sight of a familiar face that stopped him dead in his tracks.

Remus Lupin.

"Moony!" Harry cried, before running after the man, shouting all the while. "MOONY! Wait!"

Eventually, he was right beside the man, and he grabbed at his sleeve, tugging, until the werewolf abruptly halted and froze.

"…Moony?" Harry prodded the man cautiously.

Then a cold wind swept over him, and Remus turned to look down at him, snarling.

"_You are in the way,"_ he growled, gripping Harry's arms tightly. Harry twisted in the man's arms, crying out in pain as his arms began burning. _"You must be taken care of,"_ he whispered harshly. Remus raised a hand above him, ready to strike. _"Begone!"_

The fist sailed down and Harry screwed his eyes shut, hearing yet not comprehending another voice crying out repeatedly, _"Evan! Evan, wake up! Evan!"_

He awoke.

He gasped and instinctively brushed the hands away, the grip on his shoulder, shaking him roughly. He pushed Hayden away, and Ron, who was hovering in the background, was staring at him nervously and jumped when the boy who had been in a seizure of some sort stared at him.

"Evan! You alright? What happened?"

Harry shook his head to clear it, still hearing those whispering voices, just beyond his range of hearing. He yearned to reach out, and hear just what they were saying to him… but he didn't.

Instead, he rose to his feet shakily and brushed past the two frightened boys, muttering "nightmare" to Hayden as he passed. Outside the compartment, he could almost feel them staring at his back, and, gritting his teeth, marched down the rattling corridor to the bathroom.

Inside, he locked the door, and at last, feeling secluded once more and with his own privacy, he sank down onto the floor, feeling the rumble of the train as it sped over the tracks. He popped out his contacts and rubbed his eyes tiredly - they felt as if all the moisture had been sucked out of them. He blinked a few times before slipping his contacts back in and washing his face vigorously.

After several minutes of debating over whether or not to drown himself in the sink, he turned off the tap and stared at his reflection.

Bloodshot eyes stared back evenly, and he was relieved to find they weren't the ruby red he had seen in his dream. The shadows under his eyes were more pronounced than ever, and his mouth seemed to be fixed in a permanent state of depression. He pulled the collar of his jacket down a little, revealing the cut he had received only a week ago. His jacket had somehow irritated it in his throes of panic and had rubbed the scab away, thus making it bleed freely once more.

Cursing, he wet his hands and tried to wash away the blood, the cut throbbing painfully until he was struck with an idea. He concentrated on the cut, willed it to heal over, gently pooling his magic and centering it on the cut. The cut glowed blue, a soft, soothing blue, and as he watched, it healed itself from one end to the other, until only a faded scar remained.

He was suddenly struck with a feeling of dejá vu, and for a fleeting moment, was watching through someone's eyes, watched as a small, baby finger tracing an 'X'-shaped cut, leaving a blue glow where the finger traced. The 'X' healed over, leaving a scar in its place.

Harry gasped as he doubled over, using the sink to support himself. When his breathing returned to normal, he stared at himself in the mirror again.

'_What was that?'_

**XxX**

The train slowed to a grinding halt as the brakes screeched, and the doors slid open for students, all clad in black robes and their usual uniform. They milled about the platform, chatting happily with their friends. Several others complained about their hunger, but all the first years remained relatively silent, nervous as they were and several with churning stomachs.

All except one.

Harry stared around coolly, feeling only a small spark of excitement, and saw a towering man with a lantern lumber over, calling out, "Firs' years! Firs' years, follow me!"

He joined the two dozen or so eleven year olds, following behind the group as they shuffled after the giant. They left the train and the other students behind, the latter of which were slowly meandering their way to another path. Along the path, Harry thought he saw the body of a skeletal horse, but shook his head as they started to round a bend.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts 'round this bend," the giant called out, raising the lantern high up so that the students could see where they were walking. They turned, and gasped in awe.

The majestic castle appeared, and Harry watched with amusement as the other students 'ooh'-ed and 'ahh'-ed. The castle did look more spectacular than the last time Harry had came, and he suspected it had to do with a blend of magic, the dark night and the light emanating from the windows.

Harry observed the other first years calculatingly as they clambered into the boats, four to each, the large man taking one to himself, and he settled for climbing into one with a bushy-haired girl, chatting away rapidly to another girl. The girl looked overwhelmed and conscientious, but Harry ignored them both as he settled down onto the back bench. He helped a brown-haired, round-faced boy cradling a toad to his chest gently into the boat.

"T-thanks," was the grateful response before he sneezed suddenly.

Harry was momentarily shocked, as he recognized the boy as Neville Longbottom, his only real friend during his childhood. He smiled back at the boy and nodded. "No problem."

"Alrigh' then? Everyone in? Righ' then, FORWARD!"

The boats suddenly began gliding silently through the still water, moving quickly towards the castle. Harry saw an overhang of twisting vines ahead, and pulled Neville down with him just in time, as the vines passed not a foot over their lowered heads. Harry straightened and saw, in the boat right next to his, Hayden, his face beaming just as brightly as Ron, who sat next to him.

Harry turned away, which didn't go unnoticed by Hayden, who stared at Evan's profile intently, as if trying to work out a mystery. Evan's sudden change in behaviour hadn't gone unnoticed by him, and he resolved to find out just what happened to Evan in such a short amount of time. He nearly lurched forward in surprise when the boats suddenly stopped, next to ground. He clambered out after Ron and stuck by the red-head as they walked closer to the front doors of Hogwarts.

Harry offered a gratefully welcomed hand to Neville, muttering as he did so, "Got your toad?"

Neville gasped. "Trevor!" He hurried back and scooped out the toad from their boat, gently holding the amphibian close to his body. "Thanks for reminding me," he murmured embarrassedly to Harry.

The other brown-haired boy shrugged. "No worries," he muttered, as they hurried after the procession.

The giant glanced back at the assembled kids behind him before raising a giant hand and rapping his knuckles three times against the large oak doors loudly. The doors swung open, revealing a stern-faced, aging woman. Harry grinned in amusement when the other first years started shifting nervously under the scrutiny of the stern Animagus. When McGonagall's eyes alighted upon him, he offered a mischievous wink. A fleeting look of surprise flashed across her face, and Harry was sure he saw her wink in return.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," offered the giant.

"Thank you Hagrid. I will take them from here," McGonagall nodded to Hagrid before motioning for the eleven year olds to follow her.

She led them through the hallways and opposite another pair of large doors, into a small chamber where she stopped and addressed them at last.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, her Scottish brogue slightly more pronounced than before. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free-time in your house dormitory."

'_That's five mentions of 'houses','_ Harry noted with amusement.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."

At the mention of the last house, Harry noted that the same blond-haired aristocrat from Madam Malkin's was nudging his friend smugly, smirking. Harry scoffed inwardly, and tuned out the rest of the speech before the Professor left and almost immediately, the students began muttering to one another.

" – Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Harry saw Ron, standing closely with his brother as they conversed quietly. He took the time to study his twin, taking in the unruly red hair, sticking up at the back like his did as well, and couldn't help noticing his healthy, average frame of a well-nourished boy. His facial structure was rather soft, and not as prominent with the cheekbones as Harry's were. He stared down at his calloused hands and at Hayden's soft, pink hands.

As he compared the differences between them, he couldn't help but feel a small pang of jealousy and hurt, as well as a tinge of anger. Before he could continue fuming, however, several students shrieked in shock as pearly-white figures emerged from the walls, not noticing the small congregation beneath them.

A fat, balding monk was arguing with a ghost wearing ruffs and tights, saying something about "forgive and forget" while the opposing ghost was saying "given Peeves all the chances he deserves".

Said ghost soon noticed the huddled group and beamed down at them.

"Well, I say! What are you all doing in here?"

The eleven year olds stared at him, terrified. Harry idly wondered how long the ghost had been around.

"New students, I suppose?" The fat monk was answered by a few nods. "Wonderful! Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know."

"Move along now," came the sharp voice of Professor McGonagall. "We are ready for you."

Nervous once again, the huddle of first years followed the stern-faced Professor back out of the chamber and to the large double doors, all the while a constant droning of hundreds of voices reaching their ears. McGonagall paused, checked they were all behind her, and walked through the opening doors.

Harry was immediately struck by the enormity of the hall, with four long tables and benches, banners hung up magically depicting images of lions, badgers, eagles, and snakes. The tables were crammed with students all dressed in black robes and wearing their black hats, nearly all of them staring at the first years entering. He swallowed, feeling several pairs of eyes flicking over him one after the other, and did his best to fade into the background.

The ceiling didn't seem to exist, instead there was a dark night sky filled with bright stars. He knew, instantly, that it was the bewitched ceiling mentioned in _Hogwarts, A History_. He snorted inwardly when a bushy-haired girl excitedly burst out about it as well, to the girl walking alongside her.

At the far end of the hall was one last table, with Professors and other staff, ranging from Professor Dumbledore in all his unfashionably glory to a nervous-looking man with a purple turban around his head. Evan took a double-take when he thought, for a fleeting second, that he saw the eyes flash red, ruby red, an evil red…

He shook himself and turned his attention to the stool before the staff table, resting upon it a worn, torn, old hat.

Harry frowned, but didn't dare use his magical sight as the aura of Hogwarts was so powerful he felt he would be blinded within seconds. Then he saw a rip near the brim open, and out of the mouth came a song.

Harry ignored the singing hat and the mesmerized students around him in favor of peering surreptitiously along the staff table. He recognized very few, being Professor Dumbledore, a childhood rival of the Marauders – Severus Snape, Professor McGonagall, and Lily Potter.

His heart stopped beating for a second. His eyes widened, and his breath hitched in his throat. He went involuntarily tense, and a jolt rushed through him.

His eyes sought out the Headmaster, and it was obvious the old coot had seen his reaction; the man was smiling pleasantly and his eyes twinkled with amusement. Harry growled silently and glared at the Professor, silently ranting.

'_Manipulative old coot! Damn him! HE BLOODY KNEW!'_

At that moment, the song reached its lifting climax and fell silent again as it bowed to all four tables amidst the thunderous cheering of students. Harry clapped unenthusiastically along with the other first years, still glaring at the Headmaster. He forced himself to pay attention to McGonagall's explanation of the Sorting.

"Abbot, Hannah," Professor McGonagall called out, holding a scroll in one hand as she held the hat in her other hand.

A girl stepped forward timidly, and when she was comfortably seated on the stool, the hat was lowered onto her head.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table on the right burst into applause as the pig-tailed girl scurried off towards it, sitting down in an empty spot. The hall fell silent quickly and McGonagall raised her voice again. "Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Again, the same table cheered and welcomed the second first year to their table.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

This time, the table second from the left clapped and shook hands with the boy.

Harry listened half-heartedly as another Ravenclaw was sorted before "Brown, Lavender" was sorted into Gryffindor. The table on the far left exploded with cheers this time, and Harry thought that by far the table cheered the loudest.

"Bulstrode, Millicent," became a Slytherin and a few more people before the bushy-haired girl was called forward.

"Granger, Hermione!"

The girl rushed forward eagerly and the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry noticed Ron groan exasperatedly and his twin-brother shake his head amusedly, before Neville, standing next to Harry, was called forward. The brown-haired boy inhaled shakily before moving his way to the front, where the hat seemed to scrutinize him.

There was a lengthy pause, then, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry felt a small smile tug at his lips as he clapped more earnestly for his long-time friend.

Draco Malfoy swaggered up the steps when his name was called, and the hat had barely touched a hair of his head when it called out, "SLYTHERIN!"

There was another pair of twins, and Harry noted interestedly that they went into separate houses, before "Potter, Hayden," was called out.

Immediately, whispers broke out among the tables, all craning to look at Hayden, staring at him intently as the hat slipped over his red hair. It seemed the whole hall was waiting with baited breath, tense and praying that the "Boy-Who-Lived" would be sorted to their house. Lily Potter stared at the back of Hayden's head, her green eyes burning a hole into his scalp.

They didn't have to wait long.

The rip opened wide… "GRYFFINDOR!"

It seemed like a thunderclap itself rang through the hall.

Every table, excepting Slytherin, seemed to be clapping, the students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff not so loudly, but Gryffindor table rang with whoops, and cheers, and several older students stood to shake Hayden's hand eagerly. The two red-haired twins were shouting exuberantly, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" while others threw their hats into the air in their excitement.

The applause for Hayden rang on for the longest time, until suddenly, McGonagall called out again.

"Reeds, Evan!"

Harry inhaled deeply and stepped forward, past the remaining three students – one being Ron Weasley, the other two a boy and a girl.

He saw that Dumbledore was leaning forward very slightly; Lily Potter was staring at him curiously, and even the Potions Master… Harry sat down, and the hat slipped over his eyes until he could see nothing but the black wool of the inside.

'_Potter? Harry Potter, you say…'_

The voice echoed inside his mind and he felt, for a fleeting moment, panic flare up. He gripped the stool until his knuckles were white and tried to force his panic down.

'_Not to worry, young Harry, your secret's safe with me. My, my, what a busy life you've had… so full of adventures, dangerous adventures. Immensely brave, and a sharp mind, not bad either. A thirst… to love and be loved. To have friends… oh my, what an interesting blend.'_

Evan remained silent as the hat seemed to ponder.

'_Sly as a fox, and cunning, absolutely devious; and a fierce loyalty, to your family, Remus Lupin, yes, Sirius Black… and yourself. How interesting.'_

'_The point?'_ Harry thought to the hat at last, getting impatient.

'_I'm getting there, getting there,'_ it 'said', annoyed. _'Well, this leaves me in quite a pickle; you'd suit any house, really.'_

'_Anything but Slytherin,'_ Harry thought. _'I don't think I'd survive with my mind intact, what with Malfoy there.'_

There was a strange sensation in his mind – as if the hat was amused. _'Indeed. Well then, I suppose I'd better –'_

The hat was suddenly lifted from his head, and he stared up at McGonagall curiously.

"What?"

"It's been five minutes," she said, frowning thoughtfully.

"Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore called. "Perhaps I can sort this out."

Harry frowned as the hat replaced the old man's purple one. He watched as a myriad of emotions flittered through the blue eyes. Everyone in the hall was staring at him now, and as he watched, a slight frown creased the man's face. Then it disappeared, and the smile returned.

"Not to worry," he said cheerfully, passing the hat back to McGonagall. "Everything's sorted out now."

Harry didn't like the implications behind his sentence, but it seemed no-one else had. Indeed, when the hat was placed on his head again, it confirmed his suspicions.

'_I apologize, Harry, but I feel compelled to listen to the Headmaster's suggestion. Therefore, I place you in _GRYFFINDOR!'

The Gryffindor table cheered. Harry slowly took the hat off and passed it to McGonagall, but not before one last thought entered his mind.

'_Perhaps we shall meet again, Harry Potter. I would love to sort you properly…'_

Harry sat down opposite Hayden, next to Neville, but didn't pay any attention to the people around him as he mused over the hat's last comment. He didn't clap along with the table when Ron Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor. He didn't listen to Dumbledore when he made his speech, introducing Lily Potter as the new History of Magic teacher and welcoming back Quirrell, the Defence teacher.

He blinked in surprise when the empty, golden plate magically filled themselves with food, luscious, tempting, and in platefuls. Harry had never seen so much food in one place, but when the other students around him began tearing into the food, he followed suit, at a more sedate pace.

The meal passed with constant chatter, the other first years around him speaking excitedly. Hermione Granger was speaking rapidly with a red-haired, freckled prefect whom Evan assumed was another Weasley.

As they sated their hunger, the conversation turned to their families.

"Me mum's a witch. Dad's a muggle – didn't find out until they were married," Seamus Finnegan, a sandy-haired boy, swallowed a mouthful of roast before continuing. "Bit of a nasty shock for him."

They laughed, and Ron grinned around a piece of chicken. "What about you, Neville?"

"Well, you know Frank and Alice Longbottom. My dad's an Auror, and mum is too. She used to be a healer, though. It's helped on more than one occasion, what with my clumsiness and all. Gran used to think I was a squib, but my parents refused to believe it: they were right too, but I was so surprised when I got my Hogwarts letter."

"Yeah, Uncle Sirius knows your parents – dad too."

"Speaking of families, is that your mum, Hayden?" Dean Thomas pointed to the staff table at Lily, who was speaking with McGonagall.

"Yeah, that's mum. Dad says that she was the smartest witch in Hogwarts at their age."

"What was her maiden name? Evans? I've never heard of it before – is she a muggleborn?"

"Yeah, I'm halfblood. What about you, Evan?"

Harry speared a pea and paused. He then shrugged. "I lived in an orphanage." It was true: he _did_ live in an orphanage, but he lived alone now. He wouldn't have to lie about his parentage and wouldn't have to mention it either.

"Oh," Hayden replied softly. The other eleven year olds were staring at him sympathetically. "Err, sorry."

Harry shrugged again and returned to his meal.

Gradually, the conversation started up again, and on and on and on, right through dessert until the plates magically cleared and Dumbledore stood up.

"A few words before you head off to bed," he stated calmly. "First years should note that the Forbidden Forest is just that: forbidden. A few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Harry saw him glance particularly in Fred and George's direction at this.

"Also, Mr. Filch has kindly asked me to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in trying out should contact Madam Hooch."

Hayden and Ron shifted eagerly at this.

"And finally, I must tell you that the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is strictly out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Some laughed, but mostly everyone remained serious, if not a tad worried. Harry stared at the Headmaster sharply, wondering if it had anything to do with Hayden. The Headmaster went on cheerfully. "And now, before we head off to bed, let us sing the school song!"

At this point, the other teachers' smiles became rather fixed, although Lily was struggling to restrain some giggles.

The Headmaster used his wand as a baton, sending ribbons out of the tip that twisted into words for the school to follow, as they bellowed, at different tunes and paces. The Weasley twins sang to the tune of a slow, funeral march, finishing long after everyone else. Once the last of the music faded away, he wiped his eyes, smiling widely.

"Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here. And now, bedtime! Off you trot," he shooed them, and immediately, some prefects began rounding up the first years.

"Gryffindors follow me!" Percy Weasley moved through the thronging crowds. "First years! Gryffindor first years!"

"Come on, Ron," Hayden stumbled to his feet tiredly. "Sleep at last."

Ron yawned, nodding. "Fantastic dinner, huh?"

"You would know, since you ate half the table," smirked Seamus.

"Oh, shut up."

Harry walked alongside Neville, who was just as tired as the rest. Harry, however, was wide awake, if not fully content and feeling warmer and safer than he had ever been in a long time. Percy led them through several corridors, tapestries, up several flights of stairs, past moving portraits and stopped suddenly when they caught sight of a bundle of walking sticks floating in the air in front of them.

Percy took a cautious step forwards and stopped when a walking stick seemed to hurl itself at him.

"Peeves," he muttered to the alarmed first years. "A poltergeist. Show yourself Peeves!"

There was a cackle of laughter and suddenly, a ghost with a mischievous expression of glee appeared, holding the walking sticks. His beady eyes alighted upon seeing the first years.

"Ooh, ickle firsties! What fun!" the Poltergeist swooped down at them, making them duck instinctively. He chucked a few sticks at them, before Percy straightened angrily.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this! I mean it!" he barked.

Peeves stuck his tongue out and swooped away, but not before dropping the rest of the sticks on them, making them scatter every which way.

"You'll want to watch out for Peeves," Percy advised them as they continued. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him; won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

They had stopped in front of a portrait with a very fat lady dressed in a silk pink dress. "Password?"

"Caput Draconis," replied the prefect. The lady curtsied and the portrait swung forward, admitting them to the Gryffindor common room.

They clambered in, one by one, and tiredly followed Percy's advice and went up the spiralling staircase. Evan followed them slowly, feeling strangely elated and comforted. The six boys changed and climbed into their four-poster beds, their trunks already at the foot of each bed.

"'Night, guys," Hayden called out sleepily. A chorus of sleepy voices echoed his sentiment before all fell quiet.

Harry waited, and when ten minutes later, everyone was asleep, he silently and wandlessly cast a mild sleeping charm over the other occupants of the dorm. Left to think about the day's events alone, he mused on the Sorting, and the Hat's odd comment.

Then it clicked.

He swore angrily.

'_Meddlesome, senile old man! The nerve of him! I ask him not to meddle any more and a few months later, what do you know? He meddles with my Sorting! __**My**__ Sorting! Okay, so he did mean that he was sorry about the orphanage, but I don't think he meant it when he said he wouldn't meddle anymore. Come to think of it, I don't think he even said that he wouldn't meddle! Damn! That manipulative old codger!'_

For a good half an hour, he had a vicious Dumbledore-hating session, ranting and raving madly. Finally, tired out at last, he let himself sink into the soft bed and his eyes fluttered shut.

He sighed. _'You're lucky this isn't too personal, Dumbledore.'_

**XxX**

The morning of the first day of classes dawned bright and sunny, shining into the windows of Gryffindor tower and disrupting the deep sleeps of several eleven-year-old boys.

Hayden Potter screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to block the sunlight, but eventually gave in and tossed back the covers of his luxurious bed. He yawned and stretched as he threw open the curtains partly obscuring his bed. He rubbed his eyes tiredly as he stumbled across the dorm to the bathroom.

Inside, he let the hot water of the shower cleanse his problems away, at least for the time being.

Fifteen minutes of peace; fifteen minutes that he wouldn't feel the pain and loss of his twin brother. It still hurt, knowing that Harry had died all those years ago and no-one, not one, had known he had died. His 'twin-bond' as Sirius joked about had not disturbed him once. Because of it, he was torn between two theories: one, Harry as indeed dead but was always with him and two, Harry was still alive.

He felt ashamed that he wanted Harry alive, for the fact alone that his brother mightn't be happy wherever he might be living, but he also didn't want to think that Harry was dead. He felt selfish for wanting Harry back in his life, and hated Dumbledore for taking away his brother.

For the first few days from when his mother had told them all the news, Hayden had been extremely moody until his parents had called him into the living room and begged him to listen.

He refused.

But when, a week later, they mentioned Dumbledore he had immediately demanded to know everything that had transpired up to Harry's leave.

They told him everything, and he had flown into a fit of rage.

_Dumbledore_ had taken away the life he knew and loved.

_Dumbledore_ had manipulated his parents until they had agreed to let him take Harry away.

_Dumbledore_ had meddled in family affairs, one that did not even constitute as either life-threatening or potentially dangerous.

_Dumbledore_ was to blame for the fact that Harry had to leave a happy, loved life.

And now, he hated Dumbledore with a passion he never knew he had. He had lived in a wealthy, familiar environment, with a family and constant showering of love and affection. Harry, however, had probably lived through months of unfamiliarity and negative emotions. The last few months had given him a whole new appreciation for his family and generally problem-free life.

Walking back into the dorm, he noticed that Seamus and Dean were up already and changing. Neville was just getting out of bed and Ron was still asleep, snoring softly.

Throwing his bundle of clothes into his trunk carelessly, he yanked back Ron's covers and snickered when the other boy grumbled and moaned, groping around blindly for his covers. He glanced around again and noticed that Evan's bed was empty and looking as neat as if it hadn't been slept in. He frowned before turning back to Ron.

"C'mon, Ron. Breakfast, and we're getting our timetables. Up, now," he urged, poking the freckled boy in the side.

He usually slept in until late morning, but one thing that always seemed to wake him up was the bright sunlight of morning. In his room in Potter Manor, his curtains were light-coloured and thin. No matter how many times he begged his Dad to get some new, darker, thicker ones, he would always have his thin, almost transparent curtains.

He suspected his Mum had something to do with it, as she hated it when he woke up extremely late. Lily was an early riser but James had always been a late-riser. Hayden took after his father, but Harry obviously took after his mother.

His mother was teaching at Hogwarts.

He grinned suddenly, still feeling slightly indignant that his mother had withheld the information. But still: his mother would be teaching at Hogwarts! He tossed back Ron's covers once more and whacked him over the head with a pillow, all the while thinking of the possibilities he and the other Gryffindors would have in History of Magic.

"Come _on_, Ron! We're gonna be late!"

A good twenty minutes later, a harried-looking Hayden Potter rushed into the Great Hall along with a sleepy Ron Weasley. The tables were packed, but they managed to squeeze in amongst the other first years. Ron immediately seized several pieces of toast and piled a heap of scrambled eggs onto his plate. Hayden followed, though with more restraint.

"Morning Hayden. Morning Ron," Neville blinked at them blearily. "Have you seen Evan?"

"Morning guys," Hayden yawned. Ron merely grunted. "Nah, I haven't. His bed was empty when I woke up."

"I dunno how he can wake up so early," Seamus filled his glass with pumpkin juice.

"Maybe he's just used to it. Or he's a morning person," Dean, looking more awake that the others, helped himself to another helping. "I just got used to it, back home, with early morning football training."

"Actually," Hermione Granger spoke up from where she was sitting a few seats away. "He already finished his breakfast by the time I came here. Perhaps he's gone ahead to class early." She buried her face behind the Transfiguration book she was reading.

"Bookworm," Ron muttered.

Hayden could see Hermione's hurt, red face from his position but didn't speak up, instead glaring at Ron sharply. The other red-head didn't notice, shoveling sausage into his mouth.

At the moment, the staff table was quite empty, with only the Head of Houses and a few other Professors present. Hayden felt slightly disappointed, having wanted to speak with his mother before classes started.

"Oi! Here comes McGonagall."

"Mr. Potter? You timetable," McGonagall appeared behind him and handed him a scroll of parchment. "Mr. Longbottom… Mr. Finnegan, Mr. Thomas, Mr. Weasley – do try to keep your face clean, Mr. Weasley. Ms. Granger? Here you are."

"Professor," Neville piped up quietly.

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom?"

"I-I was wondering if Evan was here this morning?"

"He was present for breakfast quite early, yes, and I have given him his timetable. There is no need to worry. The portraits and ghosts can help him should he get lost."

The Transfiguration Professor moved down the table.

"See?" Hermione shot scornfully at Ron. "He was here."

"Whatever," Ron grumbled irritably. He swallowed a piece of bacon and choked suddenly.

**XxX**

Harry was currently sitting alone, near the back of the Transfiguration classroom. The room was empty and absolutely quiet, which unnerved Harry a little. All his life, he had grown accustomed to noise, whether it was the sound of kids shouting, traffic in the streets or just the sound of the wind and birds.

Here, though, in the Transfiguration classroom, it was absolutely still.

He was tempted to make some noise himself just for comfort, but restrained himself.

He had awoken just as the sun began rising, and felt restless in spite of a rare good night's sleep, so he went out and ran around the lake a bit before settling down to watch the giant squid.

At breakfast, McGonagall approached him and handed him a timetable. The Hall had been eerily quiet, with only a few other students at the other tables and the Head of Houses along with Lily Potter.

Breakfast became a quick affair and he rushed out, desiring to be away from his mother for fear of being unable to resist and embrace her. He had been painfully aware of the History of Magic Professor's stare and headed to the Transfiguration classroom as soon as he finished a small breakfast of toast and eggs and bacon, despite the alluring wafts of good food.

Now he sat, alone in his thoughts as he tried not to think of the staggering silence that turned his stomach.

At nine 'o' clock, a bell rang and a grey tabby cat mysteriously jumped onto the desk while writing appeared on the black board behind it. Harry smirked at the feline knowingly but didn't comment.

Students soon after began pouring into the classroom, first a group of Slytherins (who all sneered at him but did nothing else) led by one Draco Malfoy before a gaggle of laughing Gryffindors came in, moving automatically to the left side of the room. The Slytherins took up the right side of the room and while none sat near the front, the Gryffindors immediately claimed seats in the middle, and then slowly took up the front seats. Harry sat alone, in the back until Neville tentatively approached him and took a seat on his left.

Harry had already begun copying down the notes on the black board and everyone else soon followed. They eventually settled down after thinking that the Professor was late.

Harry finished his with a cramp in his hand, unused to writing for so long. He glanced at his messy scrawl and grimaced. It wasn't exactly neat, but it was legible – barely. He had been one of the last to finish, unused to writing and everyone soon became bold enough to start talking with each other.

"I take it you're all finished?"

Every single head in the room snapped around to the front to see Professor McGonagall, her stern face looking down on all of them. They nodded uneasily.

"Very well then. Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous branches of magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and never return. You have been warned," she told them, then changed her desk into a pig and back again.

Everyone was impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon learned that despite the ease and proficiency with which McGonagall had transfigured her desk, they themselves would not be learning how to change furniture into animals any time soon.

Instead, the Professor had them copy down some more complicated notes (Harry was again one of the last to finish writing) before matches were handed out for them to begin changing into needles. Everyone began confidently, before quickly realising that it was a lot more difficult than any of them had expected. Harry, however, grinned and was about to transfigure it when he remembered to use a wand.

He flicked his wrist surreptitiously and the holly wand fell into his palm neatly. He had nearly revealed his wandless ability, and that would have been terrible. He wasn't planning to let anyone to know anytime soon, and that included the Headmaster, especially after all his meddling.

He had also long ago given up verbal spells, as it was too time-consuming and time had always been of the essence in the streets of London. However, now he was being asked to not only use a wand, but also to cast a verbal spell!

He sighed inwardly and began, pooling his magic and sending it down his arm and into his wand. He intoned the spell and his eyes widened when the match instantly turned into a needle, a blinding silver needle with a point so sharp he dropped it in surprise when it pricked his finger. He hissed quietly, not so much from the pain but from surprise.

'_Ow! Bloody hell, what just happened?'_ He glared at his match-turned needle angrily, but was soon distracted by the Transfiguration Professor swooping down on him.

"Mr. Reeds, glaring at your match will not turn it into…" she trailed off and stared openly at his needle in amazement. Neville's match, while still a match, was slowly forming a silver coat at one end. Harry's, however, was simply a needle – sharp as a dagger and shiny to boot, but still a needle.

Everyone else turned to watch as McGonagall levitated the needle and scrutinized it carefully before breaking into a wide smile.

"Well done, Mr. Reeds. Everyone; see how pointy his needle has become, and the slightly rounded shape at the other end? Your needles qill also need an eyehole at the _correct_ end as well, and the silver colour like Mr. Reeds' here. That is what I expect from you by the end of the next two lessons. Well? What are you waiting for?" Everyone immediately turned back to their matches. Hermione began frantically casting the spell, her match having transfigured halfway, one end silver and pointy while the other half was just the wood of the match.

"Ten points to Gryffindor, Mr. Reeds. For your first try, it is most excellent, although I daresay that you put too much power into it." With another smile, the Transfiguration Professor went to the aid of Lavender Brown.

Harry blinked before shrugging indifferently. He took a few more matches from the Professor's desk and settled down into his seat once more. He casually transfigured each one, careful about how much magic he was pooling into his wand. Eventually, every single one of his matches had been turned into needles, and he sat quietly as he watched Neville struggle to transfigure the last half of his match. Hermione Granger and Hayden Potter were the only other ones finished, although Harry suspected Hayden had managed it only with experience and early training. He felt strangely smug but squelched it down quickly, disgusted with himself.

However, he did allow himself a small bit of pride.

For the remainder of the lesson, he guided Neville through the wand movements, although the boy turned more and more miserable with every failed attempt.

"You're not confident enough, Neville," Harry encouraged him. "You're doing everything right; your wand movement is perfect and you're saying the spell correctly but you're not confident. You need strength of will, you need intent, but to have those, you need confidence. Now try again."

Neville took a deep breath and tried once more. He stared in astonishment when the half-match, half-needle changed fully into a needle, sharp and mostly silver, with a small spot of red at one end. He grinned and thanked Harry, emboldened by his success.

"No problem," he shrugged embarrassedly. He still wasn't used to receiving compliments, although it gave him a warm feeling that spread throughout his body, pleasing him greatly.

Over the first few days, Harry learnt more and more about the magical community and life in a magical school.

Every Wednesday at midnight, they went up to the Astronomy Tower where they studied the sky and star constellations, peering through their telescopes while blinking tiredly. Professor Sinistra fussed about their lack of awareness, and told them to have a nap every Wednesday.

Three times a week they had Herbology, going out to the row of greenhouses behind the castle. Professor Sprout taught them how to handle the many magical and sometimes non-magical plants and fungi and what they were used for. Harry could easily tell that Neville seemed the most comfortable and eager in this class, always ready to raise his hand to answer a question or ask one. Hermione Granger was rather put-out by the fact that Neville was far better at Herbology than her.

"My Dad helped me make a greenhouse when I was seven and bought me some plants to start with, but I mostly learnt everything with Mum or by myself," Neville confessed to Harry.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was, in simple terms, an absolute joke.

Professor Quirrel hardly seemed qualified to be teaching and between his constant stuttering and misleading information, the first years hardly learnt a thing. His turban smelt of garlic, and some speculated it was to ward off a vampire he had met in Romania that he feared might come back for revenge. His turban, he claimed, was a 'thank-you' present from an African prince for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but when Seamus asked him how he had fought off the zombie, he turned red and started stammering about the weather.

Harry thought the Professor seemed to be hiding something, something big, for whenever he looked at the Professor he saw the same ruby red eyes he had seen in his dream.

For another, Harry seemed to always feel a constant throb of pain in the approximate location of his scar, which he had not hidden with his metamorphmagus abilities but had simply moved it to the sole of his foot. Whenever he met the Professor's eyes, the pain in his scar would escalate in great spikes of pain.

Charms was taught by a tiny little wizard called Professor Flitwick, who had to stand on a pile of books just to see over his desk. He was easily excitable and friendly, but also seemed to expect great achievements from Hayden. Harry could vaguely recall his mother being a great Charms student and wondered if that was the reason or if it was because Hayden was the "Boy-Who-Lived".

Hermione Granger excelled in each and every one of their classes. She would be the first to raise her hand and would beam with pride whenever she was praised, but seemed to get flustered whenever someone outdid her: namely, Hayden or Harry.

Hayden seemed to be holding out confidently with spell casting, mainly from his early training, but he also was slowly becoming buried under the piles of homework, unlike Hermione, who always finished them on time. He could often be seen with Ron Weasley in front of the common room fire frantically finishing an essay the night before its due date.

Harry managed fine, although he tended to over-charge his spells slightly, it came less and less often. Homework and essays and assignments were new to him, and he worked through them steadily even though his hand would be thoroughly ink-stained and stiff by the time he would finish. If it weren't for his wandless ability, his assignments and essays would be handed in completely soaked through with ink, and once again he felt immensely grateful for whoever had given him his ability.

He hadn't seen his mother around often, which he felt both relieved and sad about, only at meal times during which he kept his gaze fixed firmly on his plate. Whenever he saw her passing in the hallways, he would walk slightly faster and his heart would beat faster, and he would pretend to look in his book bag for something for fear of meeting her eyes.

But alas, he could not avoid her any longer. Their first lesson for History of Magic was fast approaching, and he dreaded it as much as he felt extremely excited about the upcoming flying lessons or dubious of the nearing Potions lessons.

He would no longer be able to pretend that his mother did not exist. Being in the same room with her would only bring up unwanted but treasured memories, feelings of longing, of bitter resentment, of love. His father or 'Uncles' he wouldn't have to see at all, but his mother and brother he would.

Hayden, he could handle.

His mother?

'_Only time will tell…' _

* * *

Author's Notes: Wow, this was quite a fast update, wasn't it? Just one week… anyway, yes, everyone, I realise the last chapter wasn't that good, but I promise you more twists and turns that will come about eventually. I know some of you are expecting an evil, manipulative Dumbledore, but no, I'm not making him evil… just extremely manipulative and annoying.

Toodles, everyone! Thanks for your helpful reviews!

**Edited: 15th December, 2008**


	4. 3: History in the Making

**The Jaded Brothers: Trials of Magic**

By Blueberry Blaster

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. Any and all infringement is unintended.

* * *

**Chapter III****: History in the Making**

_September 4, 1991_

In the midst of the Scotland wilderness, protected and shielded from prying eyes, there stood a tall, majestic castle.

Its stone walls gleamed in the sunlight, rising higher than the tallest tree. Its battlements were often shrouded in the early morning mist, along with its conical towers. The windows (small and dark in contrast to the fortified building itself) allowed glimpses of sunlight to peek in.

The occupants, though many, still barely managed to occupy even a quarter of the castle at any one time. The occupants ranged in ages from eleven to 150-plus years of age, both female and male.

Most of them were teenagers – nearly all of them, in fact.

They were still humans; capable of speech, sight, hearing… but they were different to the normal, usual people you would find in a boring London street. These people – all of them – were witches and wizards.

Currently, as the sun began climbing and spreading across the horizon, the adults of the castle began their early morning rituals – freshening up, tidying and last minute preparations for the day ahead. These witches and wizards were experienced, and were to use their experience to teach the teenagers that were still (mostly) burrowed under their comforters.

One such child that was awake at such an early hour was Harry James Potter, under the alias of Evan Matthew Reeds.

Lily Evans-Potter stared out the window silently, clasping a mug of steaming hot tea in both hands. She was awake, already thinking and planning, while she watched the small, brown-haired boy sitting at the edge of the lake. She sighed and sipped her hot drink contemplatively.

At first glance, she had mistaken the boy for another, black-haired, green-eyed boy from afar, before she had seen his short brown hair. Evan – Evan Reeds, first year Gryffindor, quiet, polite, excellent with magic, decent with his academic studies. Often found in the library pouring over second-grade material. Even Madam Pince said the boy was quieter than all the others whom had taken to lingering in the library for studies.

Today, Lily was going to find out exactly if Evan Reeds was what the other Professors made of him, although the look in McGonagall's eyes when she spoke of the young boy was rather disconcerting. What had it been? Concern – pity?

Either way, she pushed it to the back of her mind. A more pressing – well, not really, more so dreaded – matter was brought to her attention.

Her son, Hayden, was having his first Potions lesson today. With Professor Snape, bitter rival of the Marauders.

She was worried about how the Potions Master would treat her son, and how Hayden would respond to the Professor. James had told Hayden everything negative about Snape, and Hayden had soon started referring to the man as 'Snivellus', no matter how many times she scolded him.

The Potions Professor had been indifferent with her, as if they were merely colleagues, and ignored her or walked away whenever she plucked up the courage to speak to him about their rocky end of friendship. Whenever she thought back to the end of their fifth year OWLs, she would feel guilty and woeful, as Snape had waited all through the night outside the Gryffindor common room just for her to come out. When she did, reluctantly, after her friends told her about him sitting obstinately outside the portrait hole, she was cold towards him and stubbornly rejected his apologies.

Only now, did she realise how it must have been killing the pallid man, as Snape had never, not once in all the years she had known him, apologised for _anything_, let alone for half-an-hour straight. Her eyes glazed over as her mind drifted back to the night that marked the beginning of their strained relationship.

"_Lily, please –"_

"_I don't want to hear it, Severus," Lily interjected coldly. Her green eyes burned into his onyx eyes, an unfamiliar emotion swirling inside the emerald depths._

_He shivered, but ploughed on determinately. "Please, hear me out! I'm sorry, Lily, I-I didn't mean it when I called you that!"_

"_Just like you don't mean it when you call all those other muggleborns, just like me, a 'mudblood'?" she snapped._

_Severus flinched, but didn't react beyond that. "I…"_

"_How am I any different from them, Severus? If you call them filthy animals, does that make me a filthy animal as well?"_

"_No! No, you're not!"_

"_But am I not a muggleborn as well? Am I not just like the others, with a muggle family?"_

_Severus choked, but could not find words to protest._

"_What makes me so different in your eyes? What is it that makes me so special?"_

"_It's not –"_

"_Not what? Not what I think it is?"_

"_It's complicated!" Severus screeched at last. "I-I don't know what came over me, Lily! It –it just – it's James-Bloody-Potter and his – his friends! I just, didn't want to look…" he trailed off, suddenly uncertain and uncomfortable._

_While Severus was trying to catch his breath, Lily continued to stare at him coldly._

_That was her second clue: Severus never let anyone know what he was thinking or feeling. The way the dark-haired teenager always kept his feelings guarded (besides anger) as if it was his only possession; his chest of gold. But she didn't take notice of it; ignored it. And that was what cost them their friendship._

"_Go away, Snape. I don't want to see you again." With that final declaration, the red-haired witch turned and stalked back into the Gryffindor common room._

_Severus stared after her, watching the portrait swing open, allowing entrance for Lily. "I'm sorry," he whispered, before the hole was sealed once again._

_He stayed that way for a long time, ignoring the Fat Lady's pointed looks and loud snorts and huffs of impatience._

Lily closed her eyes wearily, letting her forehead rest against the cool glass of the window. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

She stayed there, in a hunched sitting position, staring out the window at the boy who was slowly getting up and walking back to the castle. For another fleeting second, she thought she glimpsed a head of unruly black hair, which quickly faded from her mind.

She glanced at the clock, and leapt up, restraining from swearing.

She grabbed her outer robe, her hat, a pile of papers and books and her bag before dashing from her room.

**XxX**

The group of first year (Just Gryffindors, thank Merlin) were seated around the History of Magic classroom casually, chatting away excitedly. The bell had yet to go, but they had all learned their lesson from turning up late for class when they got lost. A few latecomers ducked in hurriedly, glancing around the room sheepishly before sighing in relief to find they weren't late.

Hayden sat with Ron, Seamus and Dean behind them arguing about a muggle sport.

"Hey, Hayden, is your Mum nice?"

"Yep," Hayden leant back. "But Dad said she was the best witch of her age at Hogwarts and was a Gryffindor with a Ravenclaw's mind. I think he meant she's studious."

"Hope she favours Gryffindors," Ron muttered. "I can't believe Snape keeps giving points to his snakes for absolutely nothing and McGonagall does absolutely nothing about it!"

"Actually, Mum's quite fair, meaning she'll give points to hard workers and dock points from slackers (Hermione perked up at this). I'm just worried about how the Slytherins will act around her. Sure, she's a Professor now, but they won't react well to having a muggleborn witch teaching them."

"Hey, don't worry mate," Ron slapped Hayden on the back. "She can just dock points."

"I sincerely hope it will not come to that, Mr. Weasley," a dry voice from behind them surprised the class into startled silence.

Ron Weasely was wide-eyed, slightly intimidated as Professor Potter's green eyes burned into his. "N-no, Professor."

Harry, sitting near the back next to Neville, smirked in amusement.

"Right then," Lily, now at the front of the class, clapped her hands together. "Good morning class. I'm Lily Evans-Potter, but you can just call me Professor , since I've got my work cut out for me for all the other year levels, we'll just start off simple today: everyone write down five - or how every many you can - major events in magical history. For the muggleborns, if you don't know any – and that's fine – just write down five major events in muggle history. All clear? Right then, off you go.

They all set about their assigned task, Hermione Granger being the most eager. She hurriedly dipped her quill in ink and began scrawling hastily on the parchment on her desk. Lily could tell that she was going to write more than five and chuckled inwardly.

When everyone had settled down and was working relatively quietly, Lily took the time to observe her new class.

Hayden was looking bored as he wrote in his sloping handwriting, paying more attention to his new friend Ron Weasley than his work. He looked comfortable with the other red-head, smiling as they chatted about Quidditch, no doubt. The second-youngest Weasley, however, still looked vaguely in awe whenever he looked at Hayden's 'X'-shaped scar, and seemed to be a bit nervous. Lily smiled, looking at her son, wondering sadly if Harry would've been sorted into Gryffindor as well.

'_Probably not,'_ she thought wryly, _'he's taken after Remus and I, after all.'_

Her eyes slid over several other students, some muggleborn, some half-bloods, and a few pure-bloods. Her eyes stopped briefly on Hermione Granger, who was still writing feverishly and had filled up at least a third of her parchment. She worried about the girl slightly – she seemed to bury herself in her books and looked awkward talking to people, and could see from the look on other people's faces that she came across as a bossy know-it-all. She could sympathize – at her old muggle primary school she was excluded quite often and had taken to following her sister Petunia around like a puppy, desperate for friends, until her letter came.

At the back, two boys sat alone: Neville Longbottom and Evan Reeds.

Neville, a bit on the heavy side of the scale, was a soft, friendly, shy boy. He had befriended Harry at three years of age while the brown-haired boy was intimidated by Hayden. The boy used to have low self-esteem, but Frank and Alice would always comfort and encourage him, and over the years, it began to show. Now, he was fairly confident but still shy. Most of the Longbottom family had believed him too weak to be able to go to Hogwarts, some of them even deeming him a squib, but they were all pleasantly shocked when he received his letter.

His Great-Uncle (Algie, or something similar) had died protecting the boy from some of the remaining loyal Death Eaters and his older cousin Robert had suffered under a prolonged amount of time under the Cruciatus Curse and had subsequently gone insane. Robert was staying in St. Mungo's long-term care but had never, not once in ten years, responded to anything.

And then there was Evan.

Evan Reeds was a mystery; an enigma. His brown eyes shone with barely concealed pain and suffering, as if haunted by ghosts, and was immensely agitated around large crowds of people – at least, she assumed so, as the boy was always tense and wary in the Great Hall. He was even sitting stiffly now, working slowly as his quill moved steadily across his parchment with a _scritch-scratch_.

He looked thin; underfed, and his cheeks were hollow and pinched, but it was less pronounced than when she first saw him in Ollivander's. He was extremely quiet, and woke up early. The boy was an orphan – had been for a long time, or so Hayden had told her, from what he said. The boy excelled in spell-casting and his essays were decent enough for an Acceptable, although Madam Pince said she often couldn't get him out of her library; he was always poring through thick tomes and dusty books.

At times, she caught him sneaking peeks at her, staring at her face, her eyes, her hair – it was as if he was drinking in her details like a sponge, soaking up every little thing. She wondered why, and figured it had to do with having no mother figure or a source of comfort. She resolved to talk with him as soon as possible, and filed it away before calling out to the class, "That's enough time. Let's move on now."

The rest of the lesson seemed to fly by in a blur, but for Harry, it seemed to crawl by with an agonizing slowness. He fought the urge to squirm in his seat, and would often feel his gut twist with every look his mother – Professor Potter sent his way. The hairs on the back of his neck would prickle, but at the same time, he felt a warmth seep into his bones when the Professor praised him.

He was uncomfortable, shifty, and extremely tense during the whole of the lesson. But in that moment – that brief, fleeting moment when his mother praised him and a feeling of absolute joy filled him – he felt it was almost worth it.

And he desired more.

**XxX**

Lunch would end soon, and then the Gryffindors and Slytherins would be trooping out to the Quidditch pitch for their first flying lesson of the year.

Along the way, the two groups sent glares and sneers at the other, not speaking a word. Hayden found himself surrounded on all sides by Gryffindors thinking that the Snakes would attack him. He struggled through the crowd, Ron by his side, but the jostling movements and hurried paces of the other students made it difficult.

Once outside, they immediately saw two rows of brooms and a short, grey-haired witch with a no-nonsense type of posture. Her hands were on her hips and her yellow eyes watched the first years like a hawk. All in all, Harry thought she could rival McGonagall in intimidation. The only feature that encouraged the first years slightly was the small smile on her face.

"Welcome to your first flying lesson," she called out. "I'm Madam Hooch, and this can be dangerous if you're not careful, so there'll be no messing about. Now, we'll start off slow today. Come one, everyone, don't be shy."

When no-one moved but three paces, she sighed.

"Well, what are you waiting for," she barked, making it sound more like a statement rather than a question. "Come on, hurry up now. Stand next to a broom."

She waited as they hurried forward, before striding down the space between the two rows of brooms. The shafts were pointed at another opposite it, and the first years were divided by their House – the Slytherins had gravitated to the right and the Gryffindors immediately took up the left row.

"Now, stick your hand over your broom, and say 'up'!"

"UP!"

A dozen or so voices resounded, some timid, some fearful, some excited, and some bored. Only a few brooms leapt into their respective hands – namely, Hayden and Harry. Ron's broom had come up so fast that it whacked him square on the nose, Neville's rose half-way to his hand, but Hermione Granger's broom remained obstinately on the ground. Malfoy's leapt into his hand almost reluctantly after several forceful commands.

Eventually, when everyone's broom was clutched tightly in their hands, they listened attentively to Madam Hooch.

"Good. Now I want you to mount your brooms, but _do not_ kick off! Swing a leg over the shaft, don't be afraid!"

She moved down the two aisles, correcting a few postures. Hayden and Ron couldn't hide their glee when she told Malfoy he had been holding his broom incorrectly for years. She merely gave Harry a satisfied nod as she passed, but had to convince Hermione to relax so that she could correct her hands.

At last, they were ready.

"Now on my whistle everyone," Madam Hooch spoke clearly, glaring sharply at those whose attentions drifted. "On the count of three, kick off gently, _hover_ for a few minutes, lean forward _gently_, then touch back down. Ready? Three – two – one –"

The whistle pierced the air, and the first years all kicked off. Some rose slower, far slower than others while some kicked off too sharply and shot up steeply, their startled yelps rising above the raucous laughter. Some kicked off a little late, nervous and apprehensive, but Hayden and Ron (And to Hayden's surprise, Evan), Malfoy, Neville (Although his broom was shaking, whether from nerves or simply because of the faulty broom) and a few others.

They hovered, at varying heights, until Madam Hooch called for them to come back down.

"Very good," she said, her eyes flashing.

Neville dismounted awkwardly, almost tripping in the process, but was looking pleased with himself. His knuckles were fairly white, though, and he was trembling ever-so-slightly, but apart from that, he looked normal. Hayden, of course, dismounted with flair, eliciting a few chuckles from the Gryffindors and sneers from the Slytherins.

"Now then, I want you to do that again. This time, however, you may fly around slowly at no more than five feet. To turn, grip your brooms and lean slightly in whatever direction you wish to turn while you pull the shaft of the broom in that same direction. Please be careful and no mucking about," she warned, her eyes flicking in Malfoy's direction briefly.

Upon hearing the shrill blast of the whistle, the first years flew up once more, flying around with varying speeds. Hayden chose to zip around the group, and it was easy to see that Malfoy Jr. was hard-pressed to do just as well, determined to beat the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry felt a thrill of exhilaration as soon as he kicked off, and flew around slowly to adjust to the sudden feeling of blossoming joy. He grinned widely, feeling truly happy and carefree for the first time in years. He didn't dare to go as fast as he would have liked, for fear of being the centre of attention.

He weaved around the other first years, the wind rushing through his short brown hair. He glided by Ron Weasley easily, and ducked under a wildly spinning Patil. A sense of belonging settled over him like a blanket, and he sighed in contentment.

Lavender Brown screamed in terror when her broom hit the ground with a crack and she toppled off none-too-gently. She landed in a sprawled heap on the ground, and Madam Hooch was immediately at her side. She helped the girl to her feet and blew her whistle loudly.

"Everyone come back down at once! While I take Ms. Brown to the Hospital Wing, you are all to plant both feet firmly on the ground. When I return, there had better not be a single broom in the air."

Then she turned and supported Lavender into the castle. Everyone slowly began drifting back down, excepting a few of the first years, Hermione Granger among them. Hayden and Ron looked put-out, as they reluctantly began to fly back down. Malfoy was completely disregarding Madam Hooch's instructions, instead conversing with a pair of bulky boys.

Harry dismissed them and floated downward slowly, deep in thought, Neville not too far behind him. He let his mind wander as he flew closer to the ground, not noticing the commotion behind him as Malfoy snatched a glass sphere out of Neville's open pocket. He didn't notice when Neville gave a muffled cry in protest and fly after the blond-haired aristocrat.

He did notice, however, when a frightened yell rose above the excited chatters, and Harry whipped his broom around sharply. His mind took a moment to comprehend what his eyes had seen in half a beat and his body reacted long before his mind even had a second to take everything in.

Neville Longbottom was dangling precariously nearly forty feet in the air, hanging onto his broom tightly. Malfoy was flying above him, his eyes laughing as he tossed a small, transparent ball into the air and caught it again.

"What's the matter, Longbottom? Can't stay on a broom, let alone stand without tripping over yourself?"

The Slytherins on the ground laughed coldly, as Neville struggled to pull himself up. The next moment, even as Harry and Hayden soared upwards to them, Ron following Hayden after a moment's hesitation, everything fell into a disorganised chaos.

Malfoy saw them coming, and a fearful look crossed his face fleetingly before he hurled the remembrall as hard as he could, calling out to Hayden as he did so, "Catch it if you can, Potter!"

Hayden immediately darted after the remembrall, Ron stopped dead in the air as he watched Hayden in awe, and Harry zoned in on Neville, who at that moment, lost his grip.

With one last shout, the brown-haired boy tumbled downwards in a heart-stopping descent, even as Harry soared through the last few metres between them and reached out to snatch at the sleeve of Neville's robes. The fabric slipped through his fingers and Neville continued his descent, until Harry rolled himself right under his broom and grasped the other boy by the back of his shirt with both hands, hanging onto his broom with only his legs.

Harry released the breath he didn't realize he had been holding and watched from his position as Hayden just barely caught the remembrall before dismounting from the broom. Ron immediately started cheering, and the rest of the Gryffindors rushed at Hayden, clamouring around him wildly.

"Mr. Potter!"

Everyone fell silent and whipped around to see Professor McGonagall, her hair and glasses askew as she marched towards the group breathlessly. Her eyes were flashing, and everyone backed away.

"Never, in all my years as a teacher –"

"Professor, please –"

"– it wasn't his fault, Professor! It was Malfoy, he took –"

"That will be enough, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Patil!"

She stopped in front of Hayden, who was starting to look slightly scared.

"Follow me, Mr. Potter."

Without another word, she marched back up to the castle, Hayden following hesitantly.

Harry and Neville had been unnoticed during the entire spectacle, and now the short-haired boy glanced down at Neville wryly. "Well this is bloody fantastic."

**XxX**

"_Seeker_?" Ron hissed at Hayden disbelievingly as they settled into their seats. "But first years _never_… you must be the youngest Seeker in about –"

"A century," Hayden grinned as he shovelled a steak and kidney pie into his mouth. "I know. Dad's told me all about it. Oh! I need to owl him about it! Wait 'til Sirius hears about it, they'll be ecstatic! Pass the potatoes, please."

Ron numbly handed over the platter of potato, watching Hayden dumbly as the other red-head piled it onto his plate.

"But still, I am a little disappointed," Hayden commented as he chewed on the end of his fork. "I wanted to be a Chaser, but I guess that wouldn't even work next year, since the Gryffindor team already has three 'bloody fantastic' Chasers, as Wood calls them. Ah well, I can try next year or something."

Harry sat a few seats down, eating slowly as he listened in on the conversation. He felt a slight pang of jealousy but it was quickly overcome by a flood of happy emotions, and pride in his family. He squashed it down quickly when he saw Lily Potter making her way over to Hayden and dropped his head as low as he could.

"Mr. Potter, please follow me," Lily spoke to Hayden sternly, frowning deeply enough that Hayden's face lost all of its previous excitement.

"Yes, Mu – Professor Potter," he swallowed.

Harry smirked as he turned back to his meal, relaxed once more. He snatched one last treacle tart and wolfed it down before gathering his books and leaving for Potions. He passed Hermione Granger on the way and didn't miss the fact that the bushy-haired girl was frantically pouring through the Potions textbook.

He had reached the doors when someone shouted out his alias' name.

"Evan!"

Harry turned, and saw Neville running up to him with his book bag clutched firmly in both hands. The boy skidded to a halt in front of him, and doubled-over as he panted, "Can… I… tag along? I don't want to get lost," he said straightening up.

"Sure."

They walked steadily in amiable silence, until Neville tripped and nearly went careening into a suit of armour were it not for Harry's quick reflexes.

"Thanks," said Neville, flushing in embarrassment.

Harry shrugged.

"What do you think about Hayden being the Seeker?"

Harry paused, his pace slowing before resuming its normal speed. "Dunno."

"Oh… um, thanks for, you know, saving me and all," Neville flushed. "During flying lessons…"

Harry stared at him steadily before his gaze returned to the front. "You're welcome."

The temperature dropped steadily as they went deeper and deeper into the dungeons of the castle. Neville shivered and wrapped his robe around himself. The boy glanced across at Evan, who seemed oblivious to the cold. The short-haired boy was thin, and his skin was drawn tight across his face. The school robes hid how truly thin Evan was, as Neville guessed. The brown hair was cropped fairly short, and allowed all to see the brown eyes. The shadows under his eyes weren't as prominent as the first night, although the eyes held a haunted look behind the aloofness.

Then the sound of talking voices reached their ears, and they shared a wary glance – up ahead, clustered around the door to the dungeons were the first year Slytherins.

As they neared the group, a pug-faced girl clutching Malfoy's arm noticed them and sneered as she nudged Malfoy. The aristocrat noticed them and soon, all the Slytherins turned to face the two Gyffindors.

"Well, well, well," Malfoy drawled. "Look what the troll dragged in: Weedy and Fatty."

Soft laughter rose from the green-clad students as Neville tensed. Harry squeezed his arm and tugged him to the side. "Ignore them," he hissed.

Neville inhaled deeply and followed, aware of the Slytherins' mocking stares. Evan led the way to the other side of the dungeon door, a respectable distance away from the Slytherins. He leaned against the wall casually, and ignored the Slytherins. This brought about a few stares from the first years to Malfoy, who glared at them until they returned their gazes to the two Gryffindors.

Neville stood as far away as possible from the Slytherins, glancing at them warily. He stood stiffly, his hands clenching the strap of his bag tightly. The silence (Minus the low mutterings between the Slytherins) was thick with tension, weighing down heavily on their ears. Eventually, Malfoy snapped.

"What's the matter Longbottom? Afraid of your tongue running away?"

Neville bit his lip to restrain himself from reacting openly as the group laughed collectively. A hand on his arm squeezed gently, and he glanced at Evan. The other boy was still leaning against the wall, as relaxed as could be.

"What, you deaf, Weedy?"

Addressed directly, Harry's head shifted to face Malfoy, a stone-cold look on his face. "I don't bother listening to spoilt, arrogant brats."

The blonde coloured, a pink tinge growing in his pale cheeks. "Watch what you say, Reeds. I am a Malfoy and you are nothing compared to me, filthy mudblood."

Several reactions occurred at once: the Slytherins laughed, Neville inhaled sharply and plunged his hand down his robe, and the rest of the Gryffindors heard as they arrived and whipped out their wands.

Before the situation could deteriorate into chaos, the door to the dungeons smashed open and a tall, darkly-clad man scowled at them – mainly, the Gryffindors.

"Inside," he barked, and stepped aside to allow them in. "And five points from Gryffindor."

Snickering, the Slytherins entered, followed warily by the Gryffindors. They wisely remained silent, and immediately filled the spaces near the back.

When Harry passed Malfoy, he muttered low enough for the aristocrat to hear, "Sticks and stones, Malfoy," before he claimed a seat.

Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House and Potions Master, swept past the desks to the front where he promptly began taking the register. No-one dared to speak as he called out their names. The Professor exuded a dangerous aura, giving all an impression that he was not one to cross. When the man reached Hayden's name, he stopped and stared at Hayden intensely.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Hayden Potter – our new _celebrity_."

The Slytherins snickered. Hayden glared at the Professor but didn't say anything. Harry felt a twinge of annoyance – on behalf of his twin, perhaps?

Snape resumed taking the register and when he was done, he stared at them with dark eyes. His pallid skin contrasted immensely with his oily, black hair and his hooked nose looked as if it had been broken a few times.

Harry studied the man carefully; fully aware of the past he shared with the Marauders and his mother. Snape began speaking again, in a soft, silky voice that captured their attentions effortlessly.

"You are here to learn the subtle sciences and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving, many of you will hardly believe this is magic." At this, the onyx eyes flickered in Hayden's direction. "I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through the human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses."

The soft, silky voice floated in Harry's mind, and he listened in fascination – he had never heard someone speak with so much passion about any one thing, and found himself enraptured despite his earlier irritation with the Professor.

"I can teach you to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Hermione Granger was listening as intently as Harry, leaning forward eagerly and Harry guessed that she was determined to prove that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" Snape barked suddenly, and Harry forced himself not to react (_'I am not Harry, I am not Harry.'_). "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry frowned – that wasn't first year material. He racked his brain for the answer as Hayden stared at Snape in confusion and Hermione Granger's hand shot up into the air eagerly. _'Sleeping potion… powerful sleeping potion… how does he expect Hayden to know this?'_

"Um… a foul-tasting potion?"

The Gryffindors chuckled, but were quickly silenced by Snape's glare. Harry groaned inwardly. _'Didn't Mum at least think to teach him some Potions?'_

"Incorrect, Mr. Potter. Answer me this: where would I find a bezoar?"

'_Stomach of goat! Stomach of goat!'_ Harry shouted in his mind, trying to will the thought to Hayden.

Hermione's hand rose higher, her head bobbing up and down comically.

"I don't know, sir. But I know where I'd shove it if I find one."

Harry nearly screamed at Hayden's stupidity as the class gasped collectively. Snape looked absolutely livid, and his eyes flashed dangerously. The class waited as Snape glared at Hayden, who returned it with equal loathing. _'Looks like Dad passed on his loathing of Snape to Hayden,'_ he sighed.

"One more try, Potter," Snape glowered. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

'_Isn't it called aconite as well?'_

"The names, sir?"

This time, Harry groaned out loud softly, but no-one seemed to hear. He thought he saw Snape's eyes flicker to him briefly, but it happened so quickly.

"Tut, tut, Mr. Potter. It seems fame isn't everything. For your information, asphodel and wormwood make a powerful sleeping Potion called the Draught of Living Death, a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant also known as aconite. Well? Why aren't you all writing this down?"

There was a sudden flurry of movement as everyone rummaged for their quills and parchment. Above the noise, Snape snapped to Hayden, "Thirty points from Gryffindor will be taken for your insolence, Potter."

Hayden opened his mouth to protest angrily, but closed it on second thought.

Things didn't get any better as the Potions lesson progressed, and Snape paired everyone up to begin with a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around the dungeon criticizing almost everyone with the blatant exception of Malfoy.

Harry found himself quite enjoying the lesson, excepting the facts that Snape was obviously biased. At first, he was wary and immensely shifty when everyone lit the fires underneath their cauldrons, but forced himself to relax.

'_It's all in the past; it's all in the past.'_

He was paired with Dean Thomas, a muggleborn with a borderline obsession with football. They worked well, taking turns alternating between stirring the cauldron and adjusting the temperature of the fire, and the cutting and adding of the 'ingredients'. Harry found himself more often than not using the knife, with which he was proficient and precise with – years of practise had their advantages, he thought.

The class had been stopped for what must have been the third time as Snape told everyone to look at Malfoy's potion, at how the texture was perfect when a sudden hissing sound and acid green smoke wafted above them.

Neville's potion had somehow melted Seamus' cauldron into an unrecognizable blob of pewter. Snape immediately towered above the boy as boils sprang up all over Neville's skin, elicitng a whimper of pain from the boy. Everyone had quickly hopped onto their stools as the potion spread across the floor, melting their shoes.

"Idiot boy!" Snape hissed. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville stared up at the Professor fearfully, who rounded on Seamus.

"Take him to the Hospital Wing!" he snapped, before whirling to stare down at Hayden. "Potter! Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought it'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another five points from Gryffindor."

Harry clenched his jaw tightly, grounding his teeth together as he forced himself to put down the knife. Hayden, meanwhile, opened his mouth to protest when the bell sounded and Ron dragged Hayden back to their desk where they held a whispered argument. Harry shook himself as he shoved his equipment away. He slung his bag over his shoulder and left quickly.

**XxX**

Before Harry knew it, the first week was over, and he immediately snagged a quick sandwich before heading off to the library.

He soon fell into a routine at Hogwarts: wake up, go for a walk or run, breakfast, classes, lunch, more classes, library, dinner and sleep.

With all this, he surprised himself by still finding time to check on Hayden frequently, attending the Quidditch practises that occurred three nights a week. He occupied himself in the Quidditch stands with homework which was getting increasingly tedious. Often he brought along a different book each week just to pass the time.

There was a minor issue when he realised that Hayden and Ron were late, and he skipped class to find them on the third floor trying to budge a door open, which, coincidentally, happened to be the forbidden door in the third-floor corridor. Filch showed up at that moment and threatened the two with torture-by-chains until Quirrel showed up and intervened.

What Harry found strange was that his scar flared just moments before the Defence Professor appeared and that the turbaned-man had just happened to be passing when his classroom was no-where near the third-floor.

History of Magic was an extremely tense period for him at first; until he started welcoming the praise he received and began working almost feverishly in that subject for more. His mother was surprised by his eager attitude in the class and homework but merely took it with a smile.

Defence Against the Dark Arts seemed doomed to forever-more be a complete and utter joke. The stuttering of the Professor more often than not had a student leaving the class rubbing their temples, but Harry had to suffer through those days with a massive migraine, and he suspected it had nothing to do with the stuttering.

After weeks of virtual inactivity compared to the stressful and active years he spent on the streets, he became increasingly restless and agitated, searching for an outlet of frustration. He found himself wishing for a disturbance in his boring routine. He became increasingly restless and spent quite a few nights tossing and turning until his patience snapped and he crept out to the Quidditch pitch. He snuck out a school broom and took to the air, feeling calm and at ease upon kicking off.

And so it was with a few nights a week that Harry snuck out to fly, incorporating it into his otherwise boring routine.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks soon turned to months, and soon he awoke on the morning of Halloween.

There was a festive mood in the air when Harry returned to the castle for breakfast and wolfed down his sausages, eggs and toast before heading for Charms.

Everyone was looking forward to the lesson, as Flitwick announced that they were ready to begin Levitation Charms.

"Now, remember everyone – swish and flick! Don't forget to pronounce the spell correctly."

Harry's lips quirked upward slightly in wry humour – the irony of re-learning the first every spell he had ever cast wandlessly.

They were in pairs, and today, Harry was working with Hayden. He wasn't sure how to feel about this and settled for smiling at Hayden when they sat down.

Ron was slightly disappointed about this, and scowled at 'Evan' darkly before he was paired with Hermione Granger. Ron glanced at the bushy-haired girl apprehensively – everyone in Gryffindor saw her as a bossy, know-it-all. For her part, the girl ignored the obvious disappointment that Ron displayed clearly and dutifully retrieved a feather from the front.

Harry leaned back in his chair and watched quietly as Hayden waved his wand smoothly and intoned the incantation precisely. There was a quiver, and then their feather spiralled upwards, high above the heads of the first years and turned heads. Professor Flitwick squeaked excitedly.

"Wonderful, Mr. Potter! See here, everyone, Mr. Potter's done it! And so quickly, too!"

Harry schooled his face into a carefully blank mask, and only offered a smile when Hayden turned to him, face flushed. "Here, your turn, Evan."

Harry gripped his wand gently and was about to wave it when an explosion of movement caught his attention.

Ron's face had turned the same shade as his hair, blushing deep into the roots as he waved his wand around wildly like a windmill. Granger caught his wrist and forced him still.

"You're doing it all wrong," Hermione snapped, "You shouldn't wave your wand around like that, you'll poke someone's eye out – and it's Win-_gar_-dium Levi-_o­_-sa. Make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

"Fine," Hermione responded curtly and picked her wand up. Clearing her throat, she flicked her wand and said, "_Wingardium Leviosa_."

Her feather rose off the desk and continued rising, stopping only when she blushed under Flitwick's excited praise. Ron turned away.

"It's no wonder no-one can stand her," Ron complained to Hayden as they pushed their way through the jostling crowds. "She's a nightmare – honestly, "it's 'Wing-_gar­_-dium Levi-_oooo­_-sa'"!"

Harry, trailing behind them, had to restrain himself from reacting when a brown blur knocked past him. He caught sight of Hermione's tearful face, and sighed, leaning forward to mutter to the red-heads in front of him, "I think she heard you."

"So?" said Ron, but he looked slightly uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

Harry sighed angrily and stalked away. He briefly considered the awkward idea of running after the girl and comforting her, but felt uncomfortable with the thought of having a hysterical girl sobbing into his robes. He cast one last lingering glance at the bushy-haired girl's back before pushing it out of his mind.

The rest of the day sped by, and all around the castle were Halloween decorations and knick-knacks, and the feast loomed closer and closer. Hermione Granger didn't turn up to any other lessons after Charms, and Hayden and Ron started looking guilty after they held a hushed conversation with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil.

Finally, everyone piled into the Great Hall and clambered into their seats as jack-o-lanterns and live bats soared above their heads. Harry slipped into the seat beside Neville, feeling the surrounding positive emotions strongly enough to make him smile. Neville noticed and grinned through a mouthful of potatoes.

"Hey, Evan. What's got you so happy?"

"Oh, nothing," Harry responded lightly. "Hey, where's Hermione Granger?"

Neville glanced around before leaning in. "She hasn't turned up for any of her classes and Parvati and Lavender said she locked herself up in a girl's lavatory. She's been crying all day."

Harry glanced down the table to see Hayden and Ron, who were laughing happily as they heaped more food onto their plates. Harry turned back to his plate, frowning. He looked up again, at the Staff table and saw all the professors present minus Quirrel. His forehead creased as his eyes swept along the table.

"Where's Professor Quirrel?"

Neville looked up, surprised. "Dunno. Haven't seen him since lunch."

Harry glanced at the staff table once more but this time his eye caught Lily Potter's. She smiled at him and raised her goblet slightly. Harry couldn't help but do the same.

At that moment, the huge double doors burst open with a deafening bang and Quirrel rushed in, robes askew and his face portraying intense fear and panic.

"TROLL!" he screamed. "Troll in the dungeons!"

Everyone stared at the Defense Professor, unmoving, who stood in the middle of the Hall. The Professors had all stood up.

"Thought you ought to know," was the last audible thing the Professor said before he collapsed.

It was as if a switch had been flicked.

Everyone, every single student, rose and hurried around aimlessly, screaming in terror. Professor Dumbledore shot several sparks from the end of his wand but when that failed, he opened his mouth.

"SILENCE!"

Everyone became deathly silent, all eyes on Dumbledore.

"Thank you. Prefects, lead your Houses to your dormitories. Teachers, follow me."

Immediately, Percy Weasley began shouting orders and calling out for the first years. They all squeezed through the double doors, careful to avoid Professor Quirrel's inert body.

Harry felt a strange foreboding settle over him like a shadow and glanced back. He saw the rest of the students, but more importantly, he saw Hayden and Ron sneaking away. At first, he stared after them in disbelief, before he growled and took off after them, using a nifty disillusioning spell he had found in the library.

**XxX**

Hermione sniffed and rubbed her undoubtedly blood-shot eyes as she shuffled out of the toilet cubicle. All day she had been in there, and the tempting thought of food had finally brought her out.

There was a choking odour hanging in the air and she hiccupped softly, pinching the bridge of her nose.

'_How did I miss that smell earlier?'_

She wiped her eyes which were now watering slightly from the foul odour and glanced at the floor – and stopped dead.

A huge pair of puke-green, dirty, absolutely rank feet stood not three feet away from her. Her breath hitched in her throat as her eyes slowly traversed up from the feet, to the looming figure of a fully grown Mountain Troll.

It stared down at her dumbly, but primitive instincts flashed in its eyes – it grunted, and at last Hermione inhaled sharply.

And screamed.

The Troll roared in unison and raised its large, heavy club as easily as if it were a paperclip and swung it down. She faintly registered scrambling out of the way desperately, and could feel the floor tremor mightily as the club struck the floor. She ducked into a toilet cubicle, all rational thought gone and not thinking about the absurdity of her situation: she was in a cubicle, with only a thin piece of flimsy wood between her and the Troll's club –

- and then her world exploded into a reality of flying shards of wood. She threw herself to the ground and flung her arms protectively over the back of her head – fragments of wood clattered to the ground harmlessly and fell on her, but her thick school robes prevented any from cutting her skin.

She looked up when the rain of wood ceased and began crawling on her hands. The Troll was sniffing the air when she sneaked a look. At least half of the cubicles were in states of badly-needed repair, the top-half of the walls littering the floor.

She shifted along the ground frantically – the Troll probably couldn't see her among the wreckage but her hope was quickly dashed when it roared again and swung its club horizontally and into the remaining toilet cubicles.

The shattering and falling of wood caused her to scream again and curl into a protective huddle. She glanced up fearfully and saw the Troll staring straight back at her. A thrill of fear coursed through her veins and she attempted to crawl as far away as possible again, but the sheer amount of wood fragments littering – covering – the floor made it a difficult task.

Her frantic movements alerted the Troll and it bellowed – it raised the club and was just about to bring it down on her – she could only stare – where was the Gryffindor bravery she was supposed to have?

"OI! PEA-BRAIN!"

A broken tile soared through the air and hit the side of the Troll's head with a dull clunk. The missile didn't seem to bother the Troll at all, even when more flying objects were hurled at it – it was the voice.

'_Weasley?'_ she could only stare in dumbfounded disbelief when the surprising but welcome sight of Hayden and Ron greeted her eyes. They were frantically hurling any solid object they could get their hands on towards the Troll and at that moment, Hayden caught sight of Hermione.

"Hermione, MOVE!"

The shout made her snap back to her sense.

With renewed energy borne out of fear and desperation, she resumed crawling as far away as possible – the sinks were within crawling distance and high enough for her to hide under – they were only two feet away –

- and then she was suddenly under a sink, huddling into a tight ball and trembling in fear as the Troll lumbered around in time to catch a glimpse of her crawling under. It roared again and swung the club downwards again.

She screamed and began to scramble forwards when a wall of rotting, mouldy wood erupted in her eyes – the club had hit the sink in front of her and she recoiled. She could vaguely hear the other two boys shouting incoherently and stared at them with wide, panicked eyes.

"Use your wands!" she all-but-screeched, and ducked her head when the Troll shattered another sink into a hundred smaller pieces. The pipe was also smashed and water was gushing out rapidly, steadily turning the bathroom into a swamp. The floor was now slippery enough to be treacherous, but the Troll seemed unperturbed about it as it smashed yet another sink.

'_Then again, it's probably not even smart enough to realize,'_ Hermione thought.

She tried crawling forward again and stopped short with shriek when the Troll missed her by an inch.

Meanwhile, another Gryffindor had just reached the door of the girls' bathroom, disillusioned and breathless. Said boy skidded to a halt and grabbed the doorway tightly in order to prevent himself from slipping on the wet tiles.

Harry watched from his position, seeing Hayden and Ron holding their wands (Hayden was attempting a stunner while Ron stood with wand in hand, staring at the Troll and no doubt trying to think of a spell to use) and aiming them at a fully-grown Mountain Troll, which was looming over the sinks, under which Hermione Granger huddled.

The Troll roared again and Harry wandered how the Professors could _not_ hear it, but pushed the thought out of his mind when the ugly brute lifted the club into the air. His breath caught in his throat and he forced himself to move.

Pushing off of the doorway, he skidded across the wet floor in a barely-controlled slide and waved his hand, pooling his magic and releasing it in what he would've seen as a brightly-coloured shower of sparks.

The Troll's club wrenched itself out of its large hands and hit the other wall with a tremendous _thwump_! The tremor shook everyone except the Troll, and Harry, losing his balance, slipped and fell. Harry was sure that his backside would be hurting badly if years of honed reflexes had not made him able to twist his body in mid-air and hit the floor in an awkward, half-crouching position.

The Troll stared at its hand, confused, and it waggled its ears before turning to lumber towards its club.

And Harry, while still disillusioned, was in its way.

His eyes widened when the Troll began stomping towards its club, and would no doubt step right on him! He scrambled to his feet and slipped spectacularly again. This time, he hit the wet tiles with his backside first.

He winced, but didn't spare his throbbing backside any thought as he tried, once again, to stagger upright.

He partially succeeded.

While he did manage to get on his feet, he soon lost his balance again when the Troll's foot hit the floor with a particularly strong shockwave and sent him sprawling. What he didn't expect was to hit the floor and slide across the room on his back, sending him shooting out from between the Troll's legs (He gagged on the putrid odour as he shot underneath the Troll).

Once clear of the Troll, he ended up slamming against the opposite wall – hard.

He winced and put a hand to his side gingerly. Then his head shot up when he heard a scream, a yell, and what sounded like an overrated war-cry.

He watched, open-mouthed, in disbelief as Hayden idiotically charged the Troll and grabbed onto the club just as it was lifting it up. His twin ended up sitting on the Troll's shoulders, looking alarmed and dizzy.

The Troll didn't notice the boy sitting on his shoulders, nor did it feel the hands grabbing at its ears – but it did notice when a twelve-inch long, cherry-wood wand went up its nostril.

It roared in pain and swung its head about wildly, attempting to dislodge the wand and in doing so, caused Hayden to fly off backwards. The red-head fell backwards in a slow, clean arc, and at the last moment, Harry returned to his sense enough to reach out with his magic and slow Hayden's descent dramatically. It didn't stop his brother completely, but it was enough to prevent him from cracking a few ribs.

At the same moment, Ron raised his wand and intending to aim at Hayden, shouted desperately: "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

He missed, and instead, his spell hit the Troll's club and lifted it out of its grasp. The Troll looked up with what was probably a confused expression. It reached up and was about to grab its club out of the air (Ron stood stock still, wand still holding the cub up) when Harry pushed his magic towards the club and snapped Ron's levitation charm on the cudgel, sending it hitting the Troll's head with a _clunk_.

The Troll staggered, dazed, and began lurching towards Hayden and Ron. They scrambled out of the way and the Troll collapsed with a resounding _thud_ where they had been standing not a second ago. Dust was sent flying, before it slowly settled once it became clear the Troll was not moving.

For a long moment, all four Gryffindors stared at the Troll. Hermione slowly stood up, using the wall to support her shaky legs. She licked her lips, still staring at the Troll cautiously.

"I-is it… dead?"

Hayden and Ron glanced at her, and Harry's twin stepped forward warily. "I don't think so. Just knocked out, I reckon." He stooped slowly and pulled his cherry-wood wand out of the Troll's nose. They grimaced when it came out with a sticky-sounding squelch, a lumpy, grey substance clinging to the wood.

"Urgh – Troll bogies," Ron wrinkled his nose in disgust.

The sound of running feet startled them into jumping slightly, turning to the door as Professors McGonagall, Snape and Quirrel burst in, breathless and wands at the ready. Quirrel took one look at the Troll and sat down with a whimper. McGonagall took one look at the three (visible) first-years, the Troll and the bathroom in general and paled further, her lips thinning in anger. Hayden and Ron visibly deflated.

"What on earth were you thinking?" she shook with suppressed anger as Snape knelt down close to the Troll. "You're lucky you weren't killed – why aren't you in your dormitories?"

Her face was fiercer than Harry had ever seen before, and her eyes were flashing dangerously. Hayden and Ron immediately started stuttering nervously, cutting each other off as they attempted to justify themselves.

"Professor, please –"

"We were just –"

"It's my fault, Professor."

Every inhaled sharply and turned to look at Hermione, who was pale and shaky, but looking resolute. Ron dropped his wand and Hayden nudged him sharply. They stared at her, dumbfounded. Hermione Granger, strict, rule-abiding know-it-all, confessing her fault?

"Ms. Granger!"

"I went looking for the Troll, because – because I'd read about them and thought I could deal with it. I was wrong," she took a deep breath and snuck a glance at Hayden and Ron. "If Hayden and Ron had not come, I'd probably be dead."

Hayden and Ron were trying to cover their surprise and attempting to look as if that had been what had happened all along. Harry felt similarly, but was also lightly amused.

"Well then," McGonagall straightened herself, looking at all three of them disapprovingly. "I'm extremely disappointed in you, Ms. Granger. I didn't expect you to be foolish enough to go after a Troll on your own."

Hermione hung her head.

"Five points will be taken from Gryffindor for your foolishness. As for you two, you were still extremely lucky. Not many first years could have taken on a fully grown mountain Troll and survived. Five points apiece will be awarded to Gryffindor. Professor Dumbledore will be informed about this. Now, if you are not injured, you may return to your House dormitories – the feast is being finished in the dormitories."

Hayden, Ron and Hermione left quickly.

Harry started after them, then stopped and hunkered down in a corner. He watched, still disillusioned, as McGonagall and Snape (Quirrel was staring at the Troll, transfixed in fear) conversed in low tones, before they left in a hurry. Quirrel remained.

Harry felt slightly anxious in the Professor's company alone, but forced himself to remain calm.

As soon as the footsteps of the two Professors faded away, Quirrel changed instantaneously. His fear and nervousness disappeared, replaced by a dark, scowling face. The Professor glared at the Troll's inert body.

"Incompetent," he muttered, barely audible. "Can't even bump off three idiotic Gryffindors…"

Harry's eyes widened. He snuck around the Professor and walked away as quickly and quietly as he could.

He'd heard enough.

**XxX**

"Snape's leg was bleeding."

Hayden's sudden statement broke the silence between the trio – Hermione was still shifting awkwardly, as if disbelieving that she suddenly had friends. The feast was still in full swing, but the three were sitting in a secluded corner with plates of food on their laps.

"Huh?" Ron looked up from his mouthful of food.

Hayden rolled his eyes. "I said, 'Snape's leg was bleeding'. I saw it back in the bathroom."

"Well, I hope it's hurting him real bad," Ron muttered.

"Ron!" Hermione glared at him disapprovingly.

Ron quavered under Hermione's intense glare. "Sorry, sorry," he muttered hastily.

"_Anyway_," Hayden rolled his eyes, "that was a real neat charm you pulled, Ron."

The other's eyes widened. "Y-you think so?"

"Oh, yes, it was perfect and – and…" Hermione trailed off shyly before looking up at the two. "Thanks for saving my life."

"No big deal, Hermione – right?" Hayden looked at Ron pointedly.

"Erm, yeah," Ron rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and winced when Hayden nudged him sharply. "Err, I'm sorry for, uh, hurting you?"

Hermione smiled. "Apology accepted," she answered primly and the three burst out laughing.

Hayden looked around the common room contentedly. People were milling about and chatting, no doubt, about the Troll incident. _'No doubt they'll find out all about it tomorrow,'_ he thought wryly. "Come on," Hayden stood, "I see treacle pudding."

Hermione shook her head but followed. "Boys."

Much later, the prefects ushered everyone into their dorms. In the first year dormitory, Hayden, Ron, Neville, Dean, Seamus and Evan were changing into their nightwear. Hayden and Ron were enthralling the four other boys about their mishap with the Troll.

"– and a club, at least five feet big and it must've weighed, what, a tonne? Anyway, so it was about to smash us in when I pointed my wand at it and levitated its club like, three feet above its head! It looked up at it, the big, stupid brute and the club dropped it like a Whomping Willow!"

"Whoa, awesome, man! Awesome!" Dean leapt onto his four-poster bed. "And you survived without a scratch!"

"Yeah, a fully-grown Mountain Troll against three eleven-year olds? Blimey, you make it sound so easy," Seamus whistled.

"Well, Trolls are stupid and Hayden used all these wicked, advanced spells against it to distract it so Hermione could get away. How did you know all those, anyway?" Ron glanced at Hayden.

"I started learning magic early. With a practise wand, though, but my Dad said I picked things up real fast. The downside is that Mum insisted on giving me homework as well," Hayden rolled his eyes.

Ron winced. "Speaking of which, my Mum's _so_ gonna kill me! But still, I can't wait to tell my brothers. Fred and George'll be right gob smacked."

"You tell me," Hayden muttered. "Dad'll be ecstatic but Mum will probably ground me for a whole year. I bet she'll drag me away from the Gryffindor table tomorrow at breakfast. Well, 'night, guys."

A chorus of 'goodnight's and other bids followed, before retreating into their respected beds. The lights dimmed, and soon, all noise ceased.

Harry stared up at the ceiling for a long while, his ribs aching slightly, feeling exhaustion and fatigue catching up with his body. On second thoughts, he concentrated on warding the edges of his bed with a silencing ward. A sharp flare of pain centred around the area where his scar would be made him hiss in surprise but it faded away as quickly as it had come.

He frowned thoughtfully, debating whether or not to go to the Headmaster about it – it was the fifth time his scar had hurt at Hogwarts, but he soon dismissed the idea resolutely. With a sigh, his eyes fluttered shut and he fell into a blissful oblivion.

'_Merlin Almighty, what a night.' _

* * *

Author's Notes: There we go: fourth chapter up! Sorry it took three weeks, but I only had weekends, really, to work on it. Anyway, thanks for all your reviews so far, guys! I really appreciate it. Please keep 'em coming and please point out any mistakes or problems with my writing or story. Thanks to those that pointed out the lame-ness of the plot in chapter two, I realised it as well… but it's kinda instrumental to the rest of the plot, so yeah.

Expect the next chapter up within three to four weeks. I'll get started on the next chapter right away.

Toodles!

**Edited: 15th December, 2008**


	5. 4: The Truth Reflects Your Pain

**The Jaded Brothers: Trials of Magic**

By Blueberry Blaster

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. Any and all infringement is unintended.

* * *

**Chapter IV: The Truth Reflects Your Pain**

"This meeting is now in session."

The Professors of Hogwarts sat around a large, accommodating table, all eyes on the Deputy Headmistress. The Headmaster merely sat back in his chair, watching the proceedings calmly with twinkling eyes – Staff Meetings were generally lead by the Transfiguration Professor, who was currently going through the agenda steadily.

"– and I swear, if someone does not remove Moaning Myrtle from the bathroom, the whole corridor will be flooded!"

"What can we do about it? The Hogwarts ghosts are inclined to stay at Hogwarts however they like."

Dumbledore listened carefully, but his mind was far away, contemplating the mystery that was Harry James Potter.

The boy was certainly an enigma: he was secretive, shifty, wary, cautious… all that a runaway street kid would be. There was potential danger in the boy; he could see it in the eyes – all cold, and calculating. Much like another pair of eyes he had not seen (nor would like to see again) in a decade.

Tom Marvolo Ridde.

Harry James Potter.

Their upbringings were eerily similar (Albus knew he was solely to blame) and their attitudes… the only thing that largely contrasted them apart was the fact that Harry loved his family, was proud of them and did not hate Muggles with a passion.

Tom Riddle had despised Muggles and certainly wasn't proud of his father – no, he had gone and killed the surviving Muggle side of his heritage at the mere age of sixteen. Albus had worried about the boy, afraid that Riddle would become a Dark Lord, and his fears were well-founded. But then again, he had indirectly created the monster that was known and feared as Lord Voldemort.

He had known from the very moment he met the boy that he had a dark future ahead, yet he had done nothing at all about it through the boy's teenage years. He had most likely fueled the boy's dark nature, with his displeasure of the boy made clearly known, and his gentle meddlings. He had thought, foolishly, that the boy was far to confused to make his own future, and so he had tried to pave the path for the boy – but everything backfired, the path was annihilated, and Lord Voldemort still loomed over the world.

What Albus did not realise or had yet to realise, was that he was handling Harry's situation similarly.

The boy had arrived in his office cautiously, and although Fawkes clearly approved of the boy, Albus still feared what the consequences of Voldemort's backfired curse might be. Would the boy turn Dark? Or would he become a steadfast Light supporter?

Harry was certainly decisive in his thoughts that the pureblood, creatures and Muggle concepts were wrong, but Albus had observed the boy's aura and saw a blanket of darkness – beneath the blanket was the most powerful aura he had ever seen in an eleven-year-old boy, and he began dreading the idea that Voldemort's backfired curse had done far more than he had originally suspected. He feared the sheer amount of power would tempt Harry, the alluring power of Dark Magic that had seduced many witches and wizards, and that he would have another Dark Lord on his hands.

So he made a vow.

He swore to himself that he would do whatever possible to prevent Harry from going Dark and had played on the boy's obvious longing for family, for acceptance, for love. He had used the boy's desire to be with his family to his advantage by welcoming the boy with affection, so that the boy would latch onto him and soak up the desired comfort and would do anything Albus asked.

Albus had made the mistake of allowing a Dark Lord to rise – he would not stand by and allow it again.

He believed that a probable future-Dark Lord would not turn if they could be convinced to see the truth and past the Wizarding prejudices against Muggles. He employed that tactic on Harry, and was pleased to see that the boy had been convinced to protect his brother – killing two birds with one stone, as the Muggles quoted. He could have someone help keep an eye on the Boy-Who-Lived and also have a chance of anchoring Harry firmly to the Light side.

Harry was easily convinced with all the right motives and a showering of affection and Albus was pleased.

Immensely pleased.

He returned his full attention to the meeting when McGonagall raised the important topic of new students.

"Is anyone having any difficulties with the first years? Or has anyone noted any peculiar behaviour from any students?"

"Yes, in fact," Filius Flitwick piped up, "I would like to raise the topic of Evan Matthew Reeds – first year Gryffindor, Muggleborn, orphan…"

"Duly noted," McGonagall acknowledged, and Flitwick continued.

"Well, he is an enigma: he's only a Muggleborn, but he tops nearly everyone in practicals – his wand work is precise and perfect and now his spell-work is becoming increasingly excellent. He has no troubles at all with the charms I've taught so far, charms that sometimes even Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter struggle with to cast. But, his theoretical work is more on the average side – I receive an impression that he could do exceptionally well anytime, but it's like he's holding back. At first, his essays were quite well done, not exactly perfect but still enough to merit Outstandings. I thought it might be that he's unused to a new environment, but it's been months."

"He does decently in Herbology, although he is very dedicated," Sprout commented.

Professor Quirrell stuttered nervously, "H-he d-d-does f-fine in my c-c-classes."

The other Professors made similar comments, although Severus Snape merely scowled and waved a hand flippantly. When they came to Lily, however, they paused upon seeing the look on the young Professor's face. Dumbledore and McGonagall leaned forward very slightly, both knowledgeable that Evan Reeds was actually Lily's son.

"Lily? Do you have anything to add?"

She swallowed, nodding. "Yes. Evan likes to wake up early in the mornings, even on weekends. He does exceptionally well in my classes, but he does seem a bit nervous at times. He – I don't know, he just reminds me of… someone I haven't been in contact with for a long time." She swallowed and McGonagall sent her a sympathetic look. "I can't be too sure about why he's doing so well in my classes and not in other theoretical work, but I am certain that he is smart. Irma says that he spends a lot of time in the library, particularly in the evenings."

"Well, this is most perplexing," Dumbledore spoke up at last. "Any ideas pertaining Mr. Reeds' unusual learning habits?"

'_You make it sound like a lost book crisis,'_ McGonagall thought wryly. _'Poor Lily… why must we keep such a stressful secret from her?'_

"Well, he's an orphan, for one, and it simply could be that he's unused to such a tedious task as homework, but enjoys using and learning magic, just not by theory."

"A sound idea," Lily frowned, "But unlikely – Irma said that he goes through books faster than a Nimbus 2000."

There were a few appreciative chuckles 'round the table. "It could be that he's just unused to homework," Flitwick suggested.

A few more ideas were exchanged, before McGonagall sighed. "Well, the only way we'll find out and be able to help is by talking to him. Any volunteers?"

There were a few half-hearted starts before they settled down again. For a few minutes, the Professors shifted around, until Lily sighed and spoke up. "I'll talk to him, then," she offered. "I'll talk to him before the Quidditch match this Saturday."

"Very well," McGonagall nodded in satisfaction before going through the agenda again.

The meeting went on for a while longer, but Lily could not concentrate; she could only think of the first year Gryffindor whom had intrigued her.

**XxX**

Harry swore colorfully as he stripped off his sopping wet socks and flung them into the laundry bin. His shoes were equally wet, filled with freezing cold slush from the snow gathering slowly outside.

As November progressed, the weather became increasingly cold, and frost could be seen veiling the windows. The lake froze over, leaving Harry to wonder how the Giant Squid could tolerate the cold.

He shivered and stripped off his hat, scarf, gloves and winter cloak and tossed them carelessly onto his bed. His damp jumper and his button-up shirt soon followed, disregarding to loosen the school tie. He sneezed, and quickly pulled on a long-sleeved shirt – classes were over, and he was planning on getting some more sleep. Last night had been awful, filled with nightmares and a good deal of tossing and turning before he gave up completely and chose to sit in an armchair and stare at the common room fire.

When he was changed into dry clothes, he dried his clothes wandlessly (he was good at drying, just not cleaning spells) and slid under the covers of his bed.

He sighed and closed his eyes tiredly, quickly falling asleep.

What seemed like a second later, he opened them again, to find it dark and a full moon rising outside. He cursed and leapt out of bed – at least, he tried to.

As soon as he moved, the covers tightened and pulled him firmly down to the bed, restricting his mobility. He tossed wildly, trying to escape, but the comforter pulled him down more and more tightly until he could only move his head. He tried to look around the dormitory but could see nothing but the window by his bed.

Suddenly, the door burst open and he craned his head to see who it was.

It was Neville.

As soon as he saw the boy, his pleas for help died before they even reached his lips. He stared, in abject horror.

Neville was burning up alive.

"Harry… Harry, help! Oh, God, Harry, help!"

"Neville!"

Harry didn't stop to think and realize that Neville had called him by his real name. He struggled harder against the blanket, and tried to twist his head away from the gruesome sight, but he seemed frozen in place.

Neville's face was burning, melting. His charred skin was dropping away from his flesh, revealing a horrible mess of blood and bone. And he was screaming, so loudly, so painfully; his agonized screams tortured Harry's ears and wrenched his heart painfully.

"_Neville_!" He screamed hoarsely. "Nev…"

He choked, when Neville's face morphed into the familiar, haunting, petrified and pained face of the little girl whose name he never knew and would never know of, and turned accusing eyes on him, before the eyes were burnt away as well, revealing empty, haunting sockets. He sobbed, as the flames died and what was left of the body crumbled to ash.

"_NO!_ Damnit, _NO!_ It-it – it _can't_…" he sobbed.

The ashes suddenly shifted and he paused. The black soot trembled slightly, before it blew apart to reveal another figure: tall, pale, clad in fine, black material. The red eyes burned into his and his breath caught in his throat.

'_No,'_ he moaned, _'No, not him again…'_

But it was.

The pale, sadistic face of a twisted man sneered at him, the mouth curving up menacingly. It was the same face he had seen many times before in his nightmares. The same nose, the cheeks, the dark hair, the blood-red eyes…

He shivered, and suddenly found himself no-longer trapped under the covers of his bed, instead in a dark, imposing chamber that reeked of death and pain.

And power.

The man reeked of power, sheer, controlled power. There was a wand in the man's hand, and it was suddenly pointed at him. He froze, staring at the wand, at the man, the blood-red eyes. Before him, the arrogant expression changed to anger, raw, unadulterated fury, and the wand was brought down in a wide, angry sweep. The man's lips moved, forming a word he did not know, and a green light erupted from the tip of the wand at the same instant the man's face melted and was replaced by a mirror image of his own face, except with blood-red eyes.

Time slowed.

For Harry, the moment the light left the wand, his world seemed to completely disregard the laws of physic – his breathing slowed, time slowed, his heart could be heard beating loudly in his ears, and he could feel his eyes widen slowly.

A sudden image burst to life in his eyes, one through a set of unfamiliar eyes, looking out at a room of periwinkle blues, walls of flowers, stags, werewolves, black dogs and rats, and he could see baby hands gripping a sort of wooden railing. Through the supposed eyes of a baby, he saw a dark-clad, tall, menacing figure casting the same green light…

And then the image disappeared and he was suddenly acutely aware of being encompassed in a world of green light and pain…

He cried out, lurching upright in his four-poster, unrestrictive, inanimate bed. He gasped frantically for air, his chest heaving. His clothes were soaked again; this time drenched in sweat and crumpled no doubt by his thrashing during a nightmare.

He was suddenly aware that he wasn't alone, and his eyes widened upon seeing all of his dorm-mates and Percy the Prefect surrounding his bed. He stared at Neville, immensely relieved to find that his friend wasn't burning alive. He sighed and pushed back his covers with trembling hands. He suddenly felt weak and clammy, and ignored the others' hushed questions as he pulled out a clean set of clothes.

"Evan!" A hand grabbed his arm and he tensed, not relaxing until the hand left. "Evan – mate – what's wrong?"

Hayden stared at him worriedly, his hazel eyes staring into Harry's. At that moment, Harry felt an urge to throw his alias out the window and spill everything, but he pushed it away roughly and shaking his head, ducked around Hayden for the bathroom.

Hayden slid into his path again and Harry gritted his teeth in frustration – he wanted, needed privacy. His knees were shaking minutely, repressed by sheer force of will alone, and he didn't want anyone to see his bout of weakness.

"Please move."

God, even his voice sounded weak and pathetic; it came out as a harsh whisper, hoarse and rasping. His throat ached with a painful dryness, and it hurt to speak. Hayden stared at him resolutely as the others (including Percy) watched.

"No."

Harry's eyes flashed. "Move, Hayden."

"I won't." Hayden lifted his chin stubbornly. "No until you tell us what's wrong."

Harry seethed internally. Why did they have to inherit equal amounts of stubbornness? "It's none of your business. Move."

Hayden didn't shift the slightest. "It does concern us when you're screaming bloody murder and thrashing about wildly enough to bloody Seamus' nose."

Harry's eyes slid briefly to Seamus, who was clutching his face miserably. He stared back at Hayden and didn't respond. Hayden growled softly and narrowed his eyes at Harry. His hazel eyes moved to the dormitory door and Harry looked too, to see a crowd of Gryffindors staring inside worriedly.

He glared at them. "What?" he snapped.

"W-we heard screaming," Hermione offered tentatively, as the other students around her nodded empathetically. "It sounded really bad, and we were worried…"

There was the sound of the portrait hole opening and slamming shut. A familiar, stern voice echoed up the stairs, one that Harry did _not_ want to hear.

"_What_ on earth is this racket about? We can hear you from the Great Hall," McGonagall's strict voice carried to his ears.

Harry took advantage of everyone's momentary lapse of attention and ducked past Hayden and into the bathroom. He was about to lock it when his twin slid in quickly and shut the door behind him. Harry glared, before turning and ignoring the other boy. He leaned over the sink and splashed copious amounts of water on his face. The cold water made some of the tension in his body seep out, but he was still uncomfortably aware of Hayden's piercing gaze.

Eventually, he could stand it no longer and snapped, "What?"

Hayden returned his gaze coolly and responded in a low voice, "What are your nightmares about?"

Harry flinched and turned to hide it. "Nothing."

"Oh yes, you'd be screaming about absolutely nothing," Hayden remarked sarcastically. "Yes, it makes perfect sense – sounds like a horrid nightmare."

Harry gritted his teeth and wondered whether his sarcasm came from their mother or father. Or perhaps Sirius.

The thought stopped him dead in his tracks – Sirius. Sirius and Remus; Godfather, Uncle, Animagus, werewolf…

He realized he hadn't thought about them for nearly a month, and it took him a while to recall a mental image if their faces. He nearly cursed himself then and there. How could he have forgotten two of the most important people in his previous life three years ago? He suppressed a wave of emotion and bit his tongue to keep the expletives from spewing out of his mouth and was rewarded with a coppery-taste in his mouth.

He leaned over the sink again and spat out the blood, Hayden watching him all the while. "Evan."

Harry ignored him, instead swiping a towel from a hook and burying his face in its softness.

"Evan."

Harry lifted his face but didn't turn to meet Hayden's gaze.

"Evan – look at me."

The noise outside the bathroom sounded like a dull roar, compared to the near silence inside.

"Evan: look – at – me."

Harry turned, his bloodshot eyes meeting Hayden's hazel ones. The red-head sighed sadly, losing his straight posture and slumping against the wall. "What happened to you, Evan? Four months ago, you were so happy; shy, but happy. The when I see you again on the train, you look all… " he waved his arms about wildly, searching for a term. "I don't know! Just… different – dark…" he sighed.

"I want to know what happened, Evan. What are all these nightmares about? If you share them with someone, it'll help. It really does…" his eyes softened in remembrance. "I'll understand if you're feeling pained. I know what it feels like…"

Harry snapped.

"Understand?" he hissed. "_Understand_? You, Hayden, will _never_ understand, not as long as you live. You don't _understand_ what I've went through, what I'm going through. You, of all people with a _loving_ family, a perfect, ordered little life with riches and wealth, don't _understand_ what it's like to go through internal torture everyday. You do not _understand_ what it's like to live a lie and see the painful truth before you everyday. You do not _understand_ that I have to go through every day here seeing that truth, and you do not _understand_ how much it hurts – I'll tell you how much it hurts, Hayden," Harry whispered harshly.

"Every time I see the truth, every time I hear it, _think_ about it, it kills a little bit more of me inside. It chips away at my heart, to see the truth of my worthless life. And you, Hayden Potter, do _not_ understand my life. So stop poking about in it; one meddling coot is enough – don't try to control my life for me."

Hayden narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Don't go assuming things about me, Evan," he whispered through gritted teeth. "I know more about pain than you think – I've known pain ever since I was eight. You have no right to assume that you're the only person in the world to experience pain – so stop acting like a bloody, self-absorbed, self-pitying git.

"Secondly, you misinterpret everything: I was trying to comfort you, and you see it as manipulation. I do not violate free will; I never will. I'd understand on some level what you might be going through – so pull yourself back to Earth or I'll punch some sense into you."

Harry glared, eyes flashing. "And what is so painful that you would understand me?"

Hayden returned his heated glare, panting angrily. His mouth opened, but no words came out. Harry stared at him angrily before whipping around and grabbing his bundle of clothing. He was starting to think that Hayden wouldn't speak again when he did, softly.

"I've lost my twin brother."

The simple statement made Harry freeze in shock.

Of course… how could he have forgotten? His family believed him dead and he had been too self-absorbed in his own problems to realize that they were going through something similar.

'_How could I be such a git?'_ he wondered, disgusted with himself.

When he looked at Hayden's pained, sad eyes he felt a spike of guilt; it made his gut twist and when he met Hayden's gaze, he nearly gave into the temptation to blurt out his secret and hug his twin and go back to the old life of having a happy, loving family surrounding him…

But then he banished the fantasy away and hung his head, his breathing shallow and fast. His shoulders slumped and he stumbled back to lean against the wall, all the conviction and anger seeping out of him, leaving him feeling weak-kneed and small. He felt tears welling up in his eyes and didn't bother wiping them as they fell into his lap.

Hayden stared at Evan sadly before leaving as quietly as he could. Outside, at least a majority of Gryffindor House was there, as well as Professor McGonagall. He sighed and shook his head firmly. "He needs some time alone."

With that, he glared at them all until they dispersed, leaving only Ron and Neville. Hayden left with Ron, following the crowd to the Great Hall for dinner, Neville following reluctantly.

**XxX**

The days that followed leading up to the first Quidditch match of the season were filled with mixed emotions.

First, there was the building excitement.

It was Slytherin vs. Gryffindor and the fact that Hayden was the new Seeker bolstered hopes of Gryffindor winning the Cup. Both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff took part in the euphoria as well, just not as openly, as all three houses were weary of the Slytherins having won the cup every single time since the departure of Charlie Weasley.

Then there was the increasing animosity between the Slytherins and the remaining three houses, mainly Gryffindor.

More and more students ended up in the Hospital Wing with each passing day, stumbling in with tentacles sprouting from their heads or with angry red boils popping up all over their faces. Madam Pomfrey was less than pleased by all this and her temper had become frayed as of late.

Hayden was thrown into the midst of it all. The Quidditch Captain, Oliver Wood, had proposed to the whole of Gryffindor house one night of his plan to protect Hayden from sabotage, and the whole of Gryffindor house readily agreed.

Wherever Hayden went, there would be a small crowd of Gryffindors surrounding him. On more than one occasion, Harry saw some Slytherins slink away disappointedly. Hayden was thoroughly frustrated with the new arrangements, and he more often than not ended up coming late to class.

To top it all off, Harry and Hayden were still awkward around each other, and it didn't help matters that McGonagall would more often than not pair the two together. Harry had a feeling that the Transfiguration Professor was attempting to subtly make them grow closer and also to make him blurt out his secret. He felt both annoyed and strangely hopeful with the plan.

Classes interested Harry very little now, and it was only during the practicals that Harry felt content. He didn't like sitting still, and his hand was becoming increasingly sore and cramped with every day that passed. If it weren't for magic, his parchments would be thoroughly ink-stained and devoid of his messy scrawl.

The Troll incident on Halloween had been a bit of a stress reliever, but his body had ached for days on end despite his healing capabilities, and Quirrel's uncharacteristic comment had plagued his thoughts ever since. During Defense lessons, he would scrutinize the Professor as discreetly as he could, and at one time he thought he saw the man's eyes flash red – blood-red.

Harry shivered involuntarily as he sat at the edge of the Lake. He tossed a pebble into the dark depths and watched it skip the surface two times before sinking. Today was the day of the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, and in half-an-hour, everyone would be up and eating breakfast.

He tossed another pebble and was rewarded with three skips.

Harry's thoughts drifted back to the evening of his argument with Hayden; he had spent hours thinking about it, and the more he thought, the more he realized what a stupid, self-absorbed, self-pitying idiot he had been.

'_But am I really to blame?'_ he thought. _'It's not my fault – is it?'_

"It's not my fault," he murmured aloud.

The stress of having to be near his family again still brought out feelings of joy, pain, anger and fear, and the emotional overload hadn't alleviated much after over two months. The stress had taken its toll on him; his eyes were bloodshot with weariness, his thoughts were jumbled and disorganized, and he was losing his appetite – fast.

Was it his fault that he was left in an orphanage alone to fend for himself? Was it his fault that he had to go through horrors he wanted to _Obliviate_ from his mind? Was it his fault that he had to go through the stress of sleeping under the same roof as his twin brother, the one that got all the good things in life?

"It's not my fault."

"What's not your fault?"

Harry leapt up, startled, and whirled around to see Lily Potter. His eyes widened and he took a moment to gather his racing thoughts. Lily held a steaming mug in one hand and sat down cross-legged smoothly. Harry stared as she patted the ground next to her.

"Sit down, please, Evan."

Harry sat down numbly.

They sat in silence for a while, Lily staring out across the lake and sipping her mug while Harry fidgeted with a pebble. He couldn't help shooting discreet glances across at his mother, feeling uncomfortable and self-conscious.

"So…"

Harry nearly jumped. Lily shifted her head to face him directly.

"Do you enjoy the mornings, Evan?"

"Umm, yeah," Harry tossed another pebble across the lake in an effort to busy himself.

Lily smiled. "I like the mornings; my husband and son are late-risers, but…"

'_But Harry was a morning person, like me,'_ Lily trailed off silently.

She shook her head dismissively. "Anyway, how are you settling in, Evan?"

Harry blinked confusedly. "Fine, I guess."

"Any trouble?"

"… no," Harry paused. "Should there be?"

"No, no, just worried about how you might be coping in a completely different environment," Lily scrutinized his face carefully, noting that his eyes glinted with amusement at her words.

She furrowed her brow pensively. The boy certainly held secrets, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know them. "How's the school work? Are you handling it well?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he commented casually.

"I've spoken to the other Professors…"

Harry stiffened slightly.

"And they all agree that you are smart – smart enough to be a Ravenclaw. Yet you don't apply yourself."

Harry tossed another pebble nonchalantly.

"Except in History of Magic. Would you like to talk about it, Evan?"

"What's there to talk about?" Harry chuckled mirthlessly. "It's just so boring; I'm just re-writing what I already know, over and over again. What's the point?"

Lily sighed. "The point, Ha – Evan, is that the Professors will be able to acknowledge that you understand everything. We can't get into your heads and poke around and find out if we've drilled you enough," she added. "It's a method of confirmation, as tedious as it is, but it's effective. Or you could see it as a chance to confirm what you know. Don't work hard for anyone else; work hard for yourself. Achieve _your_ goals, not mine, or anyone else's. Pick yourself up from your falls and keep walking, but don't be afraid to ask for a helping hand.

"We're all human, Evan – we're not all-powerful. We're just humans."

'_Just humans…'_

Harry stared at the last pebble in his hands quietly. He looked up slowly after a moment of silence, staring across the lake pensively. "I'll try harder, Professor. I promise."

'_Just humans…'_

Harry tossed his last pebble across the lake. A long tentacle rose lazily from the water and batted it away casually.

**XxX**

"Welcome everyone, to the first Hogwarts Quidditch match of the year! Lee Jordan commentating and this is sure to be one fantastic game. Here are the teams for today's match: Gryffindor and Slytherin!"

Cheers rose in volume as two groups of seven people approached each other. In the centre of the pitch was another figure, Madam Hooch, beside her a crate that trembled every once in a while. One team was clad in red and gold robes while the other team's robes consisted of green and silver.

"For the Gryffindors, we have Wood, Johnson, Bell, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley and Potter!"

Three-quarters of the crowd were decked out with red and gold banners and flags, and they cheered loudly, drowning out the 'boos' of the last quarter; the Slytherin fans.

Harry maneuvered around the cheering Gryffindors, looking for a relatively quiet place to sit. He passed Ron and Hermione and the rest of his dorm-mates minus Hayden, who were holding up a banner with _Potter for President_ emblazoned across the front.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of gold and then the snitch disappeared. Both teams mounted their brooms, and with the blast of the whistle, they rose rapidly into the air.

"And the Quaffle is immediately taken by Gryffindor Chaser Angelina Johnson, nice pass to Alicia Spinnet, last year a reserve – back to Johnson – no, intercepted by Flint – Flint tearing up the pitch, dodges Bell – he's going to sc- no, excellent save by Gryffindor Keeper Oliver Wood. Gryffindor back in possession, Spinnet passes it off to Bell, Bell passes to Johnson, back to Spinnet – she's going to shoot – wait, pass to Jonhson, she shoots – Keeper Bletchley dives – misses – SHE SCORES! Ten points to Gryffindor!

Hayden hovered high above the stands, scanning the pitch below for a glint of gold. He saw his father, mother and Sirius and Remus in the stands as well, watching him. He started when a flash of gold caught his eye, but it turned out to be the sun reflecting off of George Weasley's watch. He watched as Wood saved another goal, passing it off to Johnson who promptly took off down the pitch.

Gyrffindor scored again, prompting loud cheers from three-quarters of the crowd.

"Slytherin in possession, Flint ducks under Bell, passes it to Pucey – Pucey tearing up the pitch there, ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys – wait a minute – was that the Snitch?"

Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, looking over his shoulder at the winged, golden ball that had just shot past his ear. Hayden and the Slytherin Seeker saw it at the same moment and immediately took off after it.

Hayden easily outstripped Higgs' broom, and was mere feet away from the Snitch when all of sudden, Flint appeared right in front of him. Hayden pulled on the shaft sharply, coming to a stop in time to avoid a collision. The Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs howled their anger while the Slytherins cheered. In all the confusion, the Snitch had disappeared again.

A penalty was awarded to Gryffindor, and the Quaffle was put away neatly by Katie Bell. The game resumed, and Hayden floated above the game again.

Hayden pushed his glasses further up his nose and squinted. There – was that-?

He hurtled after the Snitch, lying almost parallel to the shaft of his broom. Terence Higgs saw him and immediately followed, although his broom was no match for the Nimbus 2000. Hayden swerved around two Bludgers and was careful to avoid the tail-end of Montague's carefully positioned broom. There was the familiar sound of a Bludger behind him and he jerked his broom to the right, just in time to avoid the magical ball.

The Snitch was darting back and forth across the pitch, followed by Hayden's eyes as it zoomed down in a near-vertical dive. Hayden followed without hesitation, eyes on the winged ball. It suddenly swung to the left and zoomed upwards, straight towards Higgs who had the added advantage of not having to turn almost one hundred and eighty degrees.

Hayden narrowed his eyes as he urged his broom up towards the Snitch directly between him and Higgs. The crowd held their breath collectively as the two opposing Seekers hurtled towards each other. Even the other players on the teams had stopped in mid-air to watch, excepting Flint, who scored six times without anyone noticing.

The two Seekers were rapidly closing the distance between them, but Hayden's Nimbus was faster and was quickly gaining on the Snitch, although Higgs had the advantage of gravity pulling him downwards faster.

The gap between them was fast disappearing, and Higgs was beginning to get wide-eyed. Hayden's eyes kept flicking between the Snitch and Higgs, and all too soon, there was but ten feet between them, the Snitch closer to Hayden than Higgs.

Higgs grunted and yanked back hard on his broom, bringing him to an abrupt stop. He could only watch as Hayden's eyes gleamed with triumph and as the first-year snagged the Snitch neatly out of the air.

The crowd exploded into cheers, drowning out the Slytherin fans' cries of outrage and the expletives spewing from Flint's mouth. Hayden could see his father and Sirius crying out exuberantly, and Remus and Lily sitting stiffly, clutching their hearts. He soared above the pitch and came to a floating halt high above the stands, holding the weakly fighting Snitch in one hand. He grinned broadly, reveling in the applause and cheers. His smile widened when he saw Snape's sour face and Malfoy's pained expression.

'_I wonder if Harry would be proud of me…'_

Normally, any thoughts of Harry would bring a wave of sadness, but this time, he saw Harry's laughing face in his mind, hugging him and whooping loudly. His heart swelled; Harry would most certainly be proud.

He was correct; Harry was sitting quietly amongst the ecstatic Gryffindors, smiling a secretive smile as if sharing his own little joke. He watched as Hayden mock-bowed to the audience, red hair wind-swept and even messier than usual.

'_I could do better than him,'_ a small thought kept popping up in his mind, followed by a twinge of jealousy, but he shoved it away and focused on being proud.

He glanced at the box that his parents were sitting in and saw his father, Sirius and Remus as well. He stared at them for a few long minutes, carving their faces into his mind again. Remus looked tired but happy, and there was a few additional grey hairs to his brown, but otherwise looked fine.

Sirius still looked the same as he last saw him in Diagon Alley, still with the same hair, eyes, and he was chatting up another witch.

James Potter appeared to have changed drastically, though.

His hair was longer and even messier and there was a small stubble on his chin. His face looked tired and weary, although the small smile on his face lifted the bags under his hazel eyes.

At that moment, a shrill scream pierced the air and several people rose at once to point, alarmed, at Hayden. Harry shot to his feet immediately upon seeing his brother dangling from his broom. The Nimbus was shuddering violently and jerking back and forth periodically. It bucked angrily, attempting to dislodge Hayden's tight grip on the shaft. The redhead was holding on with one hand and released the Snitch to reach up and grab the broom with both hands, but a violent spasm shook off the second hand before he could grip it tightly.

Harry flicked his wrist, then realized that his wand and its holster was still sitting on his bedside table. He cursed inwardly as he groped his sleeve for something, anything to help his brother. But there was nothing, except for the two daggers on his person.

He looked up to see Hayden still holding tightly onto the broom. The crowd was in an uproar, and Harry glanced around the stands frantically. His eyes fell on Snape in the Slytherin section, and saw the Professor's lips moving rapidly, eyes fixated on Hayden. His eyes widened in disbelief just before a brown blur hastened by him. Hermione Granger offered a chaste apology over her shoulder as she hurried to the stairs. Her wand was in her hand and she was glancing repeatedly at the Slytherin section of the stands.

He waited, clenching his fists tightly and realized that Hermione would not to be able to reach Snape before the broom completely dislodged Hayden. He fixated his eyes on his brother and fiercely thought of a bubble of magic shielding his brother from the jinx holding the broom. At first, nothing happened, then the violent spasms of the broom lessened slightly. Harry blinked when he 'saw' two different streams (of sorts) of magic reaching out to Hayden's broom.

His eyes followed the streams and recognized one to be from Snape, and the other from Quirrel. His eyes widened upon seeing the normally-stuttering Professor standing tall and looking confident – malicious, even. There was a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth and his eyes seemed to flash blood-red for a fleeting moment.

Harry shook his head and focused on levitating a student next to him ever-so-slightly to bump into the Professor. Quirrel toppled over, grabbing the shoulders of others as he fell at the same moment Snape grunted in surprise and stood up to stamp out his robes that were ablaze.

Harry's eyes returned to Hayden, who seemed to realize that it was his chance to get on and swung himself over and back astride the broom. He urged the broom down and clambered off just as the wave of Gryffindor supporters spilled out of the stands to meet him. Lily, James, Sirius and Remus reached him soon after his brother was swamped by his teammates, and was pulled into a fierce embrace by his mother.

Harry watched silently, intently, as Hayden blushed and squirmed out of Lily's embrace, only to be engulfed in a huddle by James, Sirius and Remus. Harry couldn't deny the twinge of jealousy and longing upon seeing the open display of affection, and felt his eyes water slightly.

He shook his head and cast his eyes around to distract himself; he watched Quirrel and Snape intently, both of whom were scowling darkly. Snape turned to face the Defence Professor, who abruptly transformed into a cowering, stuttering Professor. Snape glared at him darkly and seemed to growl out a few words to Quirrel before stalking away, robes billowing behind him.

Harry heaved a sigh in relief, his shoulders sagging and exhaustion wearing him down. He spared one last look at the mob in the middle of the pitch and trekked back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

**XxX**

Hayden Potter held in another groan as he was once again slapped on the back, instead politely declining yet another tankard of Butterbeer and weaving around the crowd to the boy's staircase.

Hermione and Ron were already waiting for him in the boy's dormitory; they had many things to discuss.

"Hey guys," he opened the door and fell silent upon seeing their shushing gestures. Hermione indicated to Evan's bed and Hayden saw the curtains pulled tight around the bed. He frowned as he sat down on his bed beside the other two.

"What's he doing already up here?"

"Dunno," Ron poked another Bertie Bott's Bean toward his rat, Scabbers.

"The curtains were already closed when we came in," Hermione offered helpfully. "Maybe he's just tired?"

Ron snorted. "The guy's _always_ tired; haven't you seen the bags under his eyes? It's like he never goes to sleep, or something."

"D'you think he's awake now?" Hayden glanced curiously at the curtains.

"Nah," Ron waved a hand flippantly. "We called out his name several times but he didn't respond. He's either sleeping or ignoring us."

"He's probably sleeping considering you practically collapsed Seamus' bed earlier," Hermione glared at him.

Ron flushed to the tips of his ears. "It's not my fault Dean left his football on the floor," he argued.

"Shhh!" Hayden glanced at Evan's bed worriedly.

They fell silent, watching the curtains, listening for any sounds of stirring. They could only hear the soft breathing of Evan so Hayden chanced a glance to make sure the boy was asleep. He opened the curtains a crack at the divide and peeked in cautiously. Evan was curled up and breathing evenly and softly, the covers covering the lower half of his body.

Hayden couldn't help but think that Evan slept in the same way Harry used to; curled up but still managing to have one arm hanging over the side of the bed, the covers covering the lower half of his body.

He shook his head inwardly and pulled his head out, not noticing during his hasty observation that Evan's hair was longer and no longer brown, but black.

"Okay, he's asleep," Hayden plopped down on his bed. "Now what do you think happened to my broom?"

"We think Snape jinxed it," Hermione offered immediately. "He was staring at you without blinking and his lips were moving really fast."

Hayden stared at her. "You're joking, right? Please tell me you're joking."

"Well what else could it be? A faulty broom?"

"My Nimbus 2000 is top of the line and is most certainly _not_ faulty!" Hayden leapt up.

Hermione and Ron yanked him back down, making shushing noises again. There was a grunt from behind Evan's curtains and they watched it carefully. When nothing happened, they turned back to each other.

Harry blinked sleepily, recognizing the voices beyond his curtain and sat up quietly.

"Okay, okay, but _Snape_? I admit, he and my Dad hated each other and I hate him too, but really, would he actually try to kill me?"

'_No,'_ Harry thought. _'Quirrell's your suspect.'_

"If it is Snape, you'll have to watch your back carefully, especially in Potions."

"Yeah, but there'll be a lot of witnesses and he'll get thrown in Azkaban."

Harry reached for the brown-coloured contacts on his bedside table and popped them in. He fiddled with them while listening to the conversation. He felt slightly guilty for listening in on a private conversation but pushed it away.

"Anyway, Hagrid mentioned something about a Stone and protection in the castle. Turns out that the break-in at Gringotts was the same vault that this Stone came from. What d'you think is so important?"

"Dunno, mate. I haven't a clue."

"OI! Get off my sheets, Scabbers! Hey, quit chewing on them! Ron, get him off!"

"Sorry! Here, I got him! Ouch, Scabbers, what was that for? Stupid rat."

Harry stretched and decided to stop pretending. He yanked his curtains apart after morphing back into the shape of Evan Reeds. "What's going on?"

"Oh! Sorry, Evan, nothing major. Sorry we woke you," Hermione spoke up for the trio.

Harry shrugged. "No problem. I was about to get up anyway." He stepped back behind his curtains and tugged off the baggy old shirt he wore at night.

'_I have one heck of a conversation to have with the Headmaster, anyway.'_

Once he was clothed, he ran a hand through his short brown hair and ambled back out. "I'll see you later."

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"Owlery."

Hayden persisted. "Wait a bit, Evan. Could I have a talk?" he glanced at Ron and Hermione. "Privately, if you don't mind, guys."

"Sure," Hermione grabbed Ron and dragged him away before he could protest. "We'll come back up soon."

"Thanks," Hayden waited until the door was shut before he sat back down.

Harry leaned against the bedpost of Dean's bed. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"About that night."

"Ah," Harry crossed his arms. He waited for a long moment, gazing out the window absently.

"Look, if I'm intruding into something personal, I'm sorry, but bottling these things inside won't help. Trust me; I would know."

Harry was about to question him when he realized Hayden was probably talking about the supposed death of his twin. Instead, he sighed, "Were you close to him?"

"... I guess. We could've been closer, but I guess I was too wrapped up in my fame to actually get to know him. I guess you really only truly miss something when it's gone."

"… I'm sorry," Harry spoke softly.

"Yeah, I am too. " Hayden fell back on his bed. "I really miss him, and I know Mom and Dad and Sirius and Remus do too. Remus probably knew him best. Sorry, I'm rambling. I tend to do that."

Silence fell between the two and they stared at anything but each other. Eventually, Harry sighed and broke the silence.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted that night," Harry stared at Hayden. "I… was frustrated and I guess I just took it out on the nearest person. I… thanks for being understanding, Hayden."

"No problem, mate," Hayden grinned cheerfully. "Man, I'm beat. Hey, don't you want to join the party downstairs?"

"Nah, they're not my thing."

Hayden laughed. "Yeah, I can definitely understand that."

Harry smiled. "Well, I'll be going now. I'll be back before curfew, hopefully." He paused just at the door and looked back at Hayden. "Hey… do you sometimes feel as if your brother is with you? I mean, right beside you, protecting you?"

Hayden stared at him, and Harry turned his head. "Forget I asked. Sorry for intruding."

He pushed the door open and stepped out, letting the door drift shut. The noise of the party downstairs was deafening, but he was sure he heard Hayden speak behind him, just as the door closed.

"Yeah, I know just what you mean."

**XxX**

"… and after that Troll incident! Really, Dumbledore, are you even _trying_ to protect Hayden? What's stopping me from pulling him out of Hogwarts this instant?"

"I assure you, Lily, that I am doing all I can to ensure Hayden's safety. I have a very loyal friend who is watching over Hayden near-constantly."

"Who is it?"

"I am afraid, for discretion, that I must keep his identity a secret."

"So all you can do is assure us of this guy's loyalty to you?"

"No, not to me," Dumbledore gazed at the four occupants of the room. "To Hayden."

As expected, James, Lily, Sirius and Remus all fell silent. James was the first to speak.

"Who is this person? If he's never met Hayden, why is he so loyal?"

"He has met Hayden, but has been out of contact for some years for some personal affairs. I ask that you not ask nor go looking for this person."

Remus moved at last, from the chair he had been sitting in quietly ever since walking in. He stood up angrily, towering above Dumbledore's sitting form easily. "So you're just asking us to sit back and watch helplessly from the sidelines as someone else we don't know of protects Hayden? You ask too much, Dumbledore! We are _not_, _I_ will not simply stand by and wait for Hayden to toddle back home from a near-death experience! I won't just sit back again! I can't…" he glared at Dumbledore, his chest heaving.

"I can't… I can't let Hayden die… not after Harry."

Sirius leapt up and sat Remus back down, seeing the werewolf's shoulders slump and the fire in his eyes die out. "C'mon, Moony, that's in the past now…"

"The past? _The past?_ We let a ten year old die! We let cub die! What would Harry think of us if he could see us now? He wouldn't let us let what happened to him happen to Hayden!"

"Dumbledore," James suddenly spoke up. His head had been lowered before, gazing at his lap sadly but his head suddenly snapped up. "You never told us of the circumstances surrounding Harry's death. You just said there was a fire and his body wasn't found. His body was never recovered."

Lily, Sirius and Remus were all staring at him now, catching onto James' reasoning.

'_Merlin, how do I get out of this one?'_ he sighed inwardly and hoped desperately for a distraction. His wish was granted when a knock sounded at his door and everyone's heads flicked towards it. He plastered his smile back in place and called out his acquiescence for entrance to the person at his door.

Harry opened the door and peeked in, eyes widening upon seeing the congregation inside. "Umm, excuse me Headmaster. I'll come back another time."

"Nonsense, Evan!" Albus called out jovially. "Please do come in."

James, Sirius and Remus glared at him, not wanting to be interrupted and wanting answers, but Lily merely smiled at the first year. Harry swallowed and offered a tentative smile in return. His heart was racing and his thoughts were flying about erratically. His eyes darted from Lily, to James, to Sirius, to Remus, then back to Lily again. Eventually, he looked at Dumbledore.

"What can I do for you, Evan?"

"Umm…" Harry swallowed, aware of all eyes on him. "I wanted to talk to you about something… private. The thing we talked about when I received my Hogwarts letter?"

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore frowned. How ironic that he was rescued from an awkward situation only to be put in the same position again by his saviour!

'_Out of the frying pan and into the fire,'_ he mused thoughtfully.

"Is it of grave importance?"

"Well… yeah."

"Ah. Very well, then. James, Lily, Sirius, Remus: I'm afraid that I will have to cut our conversation short."

"No, no, I didn't want to interrupt or anything! I can wait outside a bit," Harry hastened to add.

"Nonsense; it's curfew in a few minutes and we don't want to hold you up, now, do we?" His dismissal of the four adults was painfully obvious and they didn't argue as they stepped into the hearth one by one. James was the last to leave, and stared at Dumbledore piercingly.

"I expect an explanation soon, Headmaster."

The fire roared as James yelled out his destination and was whisked away. Harry stared at the red and orange flames for a long moment, before turning back to Dumbledore. He glared at the Headmaster, ignoring the proffered seat and lemon drops.

"Headmaster, what is this about a Stone? And why on Earth did you hire Quirrell?"

**XxX**

'_Boys are absolute idiots,'_ Hermione fumed as she stormed down the corridor, Hayden and Ron trying to keep up with her. _'No common sense, no self-control, absolutely, completely foolhardy and rash! Why do I put up with them? Why? I am sensible; I have self-control. Why do I put up with them everyday?'_

It was the following Monday, and Hayden and Ron had already displayed their idiocy quite openly by accepting a Wizard's Duel from Malfoy! At midnight, no less, and they were bound to get in trouble one way or another.

"Umm, Hermione? What's the big deal?"

"Big deal? _Big deal?_ The big deal is that I have to deal with two foolhardy idiots!" She spun around and glared at them. "Honestly, a _Wizard's duel?_ You'll get detention for sure, and just when Gryffindor's finally leading in points!"

"C'mon, 'Mione, Hayden'll beat Malfoy hands down," Ron attempted to placate the bushy-haired girl.

"That's not the point!"

Hayden and Ron shared a bemused glance. "What is the point?"

Hermione threw up her hands and stalked away. The two boys frowned at each other before running to catch up with her.

All day long, Hermione obstinately refused to acknowledge the two's presences. They tried several times to engage her in conversations but eventually gave up. This obvious display of bad tempers was noted by Harry, who frowned contemplatively.

At dinner, Hayden and Ron were slightly restless, playing with their food and downing copious amounts of pumpkin juice. They jumped whenever someone tried talking with them and played with their cutlery constantly. Harry, despite being engaged in conversation with Neville, paid close attention to any words exchanged between the two redheads. They were planning something.

Which instantly started ringing alarm bells in Harry's head; as he conversed with Neville about the recent break-in at Gringotts, he observed the jittery fidgeting of the two redheads down the table. Eventually, the remaining people in the Great Hall stood collectively and made their way for their respective House common rooms.

"Hey, what's up with Hermione today?"

Harry jerked his head to see Seamus, which surprised him. Most, if not all, of Gryffindor house regarded him as anti-social and gave him his space. His mind returned to the question and he shrugged.

"Might be something to do with Hayden and Ron."

Seamus nodded and moved away, slightly taken aback that Harry had spoken more than he'd expected.

Following behind Hayden and Ron proved slightly more enlightening, as they were arguing in hushed whispers.

"Make sure you clarify that it's non-lethal spells, no permanent or illegal spells."

"No worries, Ron, I know quite a lot of spells; my Mom and Dad taught me, remember? That git isn't going to last one minute. Boasting about dear-old daddy and how he's the best at everything, what a ponce!"

"Yeah, and he chose _Crabbe_ as his second! I'll just do to him what I did to that Troll…"

Harry snorted inwardly, but otherwise did nothing.

Up in the dormitory, when everyone had fallen asleep, Harry listened carefully as Hayden and Ron slowly gathered their wands and robes. He cast a disillusionment spell over himself and was surprised when they huddled together and Hayden pulled a silvery cloak over both himself and Ron. He cursed silently as the door opened slowly and immediately switched to his magical sight.

At first, he was blinded by the sheer colours and swirls of magic from the castle, but stubbornly waited for his vision to clear before ducking out the dormitory door. Downstairs, he could see the muffled outlines of two people and also the vague shadow of the Invisibility Cloak.

He followed quietly, and just as the vague outlines of Hayden and Ron had pushed the portrait open, a voice spoke up from the armchairs around the fire.

"I'm coming with you."

All three boys were surprised when Hermione stood and frowned at the general vicinity of the portrait hole stubbornly. Eventually, Hayden pulled off the cloak and, with a smile, gestured for her to duck under the cloak.

Harry cursed; three people huddled closely together and walking in the same direction were easier to get caught, Invisibility Cloak or not.

He followed the three quietly and ducked into the shadows when they eventually reached a Trophy Room. The three tugged off the cloak and glanced around.

"Where's Malfoy?" Hayden pulled out his wand cautiously. "Have we got the right time?"

"Hah! I knew it! That coward was too afraid to show! He probably thought that Hayden would defeat him hands down in any duel!"

"Ron, be quiet! And honestly, are you that think? It's obvious that Malfoy planned this to get us caught! He probably snitched you out –"

A snuffling noise froze them. A low voice spurred them into motion, as the three scrambled to hide under the cloak.

"… sniff around, my sweet, they're around here somewhere…"

'_Filch!'_ Harry thought, alarmed. He cursed the stupidity of Hayden and Ron. He glanced around and realized that the three were already gone. He cursed silently and dashed out of the Trophy Room as quietly as he could.

'_Damnit! I can't find them!'_ he thought as he raced down the corridors. Harry skidded to an abrupt halt when an echo of shouting reached his ears. He cursed, not knowing which way to go, and hoped that his luck would hold out.

However, his luck seemed to have abandoned him a few turns ago, and when he turned a corner, his eyes widened and he shrank back. Snape was billowing down the corridor, and he looked quite displeased.

Harry, feeling that the Potions Professor would no doubt find him, ducked into the nearest classroom and tugged the door shut as quietly as possible. He listened, with his ear planted against the door as footsteps neared, passed, and faded away. He sighed in relief and turned to look at the classroom.

Only, it wasn't a classroom.

He paused, uncertain, when the sight of a large, bare room with few chairs and tables graced his eyes. It looked as if a few centuries' worth of dust had collected, but a large, clean object in the centre of the room fast caught his attention.

The mirror, taller than himself and gilded with what appeared to be gold, standing in the middle of the room seemed suspicious, but nevertheless, he crept closer, drawn to it like a magnet. At the top of the frame, there were some unfamiliar words etched into the metal and he gazed at them curiously.

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi_.

Cautiously, he stepped in front of the mirror and glanced at it, expecting to see nothing, except, maybe, his vague outline. He switched back to normal sight, still expecting to see nothing, and was stunned to see a congregation of Witches and Wizards behind his reflection. He spun around, heart thundering, and was met with empty air.

He gaped, and hesitantly turned back to the mirror.

Just as before, there was a crowd of people standing behind his reflection, and it didn't cross his mind that he was disillusioned and shouldn't be seeing his reflection, as his attention was focused on the gathering behind him.

Surrounding his reflection was a happy gathering of the Potters and Sirius and Remus. He stared, as his parents smiled at him proudly and Hayden slung an arm around his shoulders. Sirius grinned at him widely, and Remus was smiling happily, genuinely, at him.

Harry stared, unaware that his disillusionment charm had fallen away, as feelings of sadness, joy, and heartfelt longing rose in him. Tears welled in his eyes and spilled over his lids and down his cheeks. A lump grew in his throat and he swallowed, sniffling slightly.

His eyes never left the mirror as his hand rose slowly, fingers outstretched, to touch the image. His breath caught as his fingers neared, and he inhaled sharply, pulled back to reality, when his fingers touched the cold smoothness of the mirror.

He recoiled from the mirror, as if burned, his anger rising.

He shook uncontrollably as his back bumped the edge of a table. His hands groped around behind him, searching for something, anything. His fingers found the armrest of a chair and grasping it tightly, he flung it at the mirror with a hoarse yell.

He sank back immediately, tears cascading down his cheeks. He didn't notice that there were no sounds following his throwing of the chair. He didn't notice when a garishly-clothed being knelt down next to him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulders. He didn't notice the sorrow in the eyes of the Headmaster beside him, nor the pain and guilt.

When he fell asleep, at last, Albus Dumbledore sighed and gathered the sleeping child in his arms.

Up in Gryffindor tower, Dumbledore carefully tucked the dark-haired boy into his bed before leaving a note on his bedside table. He gazed at Harry for a second longer before he dipped his head towards the boy and left silently, sparing a glance at Hayden and Ron whom were sleeping soundly, no doubt exhausted from their nightly escapade and mad dash of fright from the three-headed dog.

Harry slept on, tracks still marking his cheeks, with a restless frown on his face.

* * *

Author's Note: Hooray! Fourth chapter finished! Sorry for the long wait guys, I've really got no excuse except for the fact that my computer had to be re-booted, but my files were saved! All in all, it was basically just a case of extreme laziness. I guess watching _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_ last night helped somewhat…

Anyway, enjoy, and do try to slap me if the next chapter takes just as long, if not longer, but my holidays are coming up soon (in a week) so hopefully I'll have added another chapter or two before school starts up again.

Toodles!

**Edited: 15th December, 2008**


	6. 5: Christmas With the Potters & Co

**The Jaded Brothers: Trials of Magic**

By Blueberry Blaster

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. Any and all infringement is unintended.

* * *

**Chapter V: Christmas With the Potters & Co.**

_December 18, 1991_

James Potter grinned happily as his boots sank into the snow. The smile on his face broadened when his be-spectacled hazel eyes alighted upon the centuries-old castle above Hogsmeade. It softened considerable, turning wistful.

'_If only Harry could see this…'_ he cut himself off tensely, his good mood diminishing abruptly. He frowned; his second son was always at the forefront of his mind, nowadays, and little could pull him out of his thoughts nowadays.

The wound from the revelation of Harry's supposed death still hurt badly, but it had been torn open when Dumbledore did not confirm nor deny Harry's death – it was like he was left in a state of limbo, hovering between the two lines that determined Harry's death no mattered how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise.

He sometimes caught himself almost wishing that it was true, that Harry was dead, just to end his internal torment and settle the matter, and he would harshly cut himself down for it and berate – no, scream at himself for thinking such a thing. The thoughts that followed his shameful not-wishes would be self-depreciating and of how he was a terrible father.

He would always, though, always long for Harry to suddenly pop back into his life, as if it were all just a dream, a bad nightmare from when he consumed too much sugar much to Lily's chagrin and he would be awoken by both his sons jumping none-too-softly on he and Lily when Hayden would actually be awake at such an un-godly hour and they would have a three-man, two-on-one tickle fight just like old times…

And then it would hit him like a ton of bricks: the old times.

He would be brutally brought back to reality, to his cluttered desk at Auror HQ with quills, and inkpots and stacks upon stacks of files, to remember that the old times were gone and nothing would ever be truly restored back to normal. He would never wake to smell breakfast and walk downstairs to see Lily teaching Harry to cook bacon and egg and toast. He would never be able to sit by the hearth in winter reading the papers with Harry's small body curled up beside him in the chair reading his own book; he would never see Harry's little face scrunch up in concentration as he silently sounded out a new word.

He would never be able to hold Harry again on a late night, comforting his youngest son from another nightmare.

He would never see Harry's bright smile light up the whole room, to be instantly cheered by the laughter of his green-eyed son, would never again feel that whole-hearted contentment on the nights that Harry and Hayden were sleeping with he and Lily in their bed.

He sighed mournfully and shook his head to clear it of any more depressing thoughts. It was Christmas, and he wasn't about to ruin everyone's holiday by being a wallowing mess of self-pity. He locked away thoughts of Harry, and tried to smile happily. Still, he couldn't help but feel sour towards the Headmaster of Hogwarts, as Dumbledore had yet to elaborate upon Harry's death any further.

He paid little heed to the grunt and sneeze behind him as Remus stumbled in the deep snow; the werewolf detested cold weather, it was generally common knowledge. Remus shivered as he wrapped his scarf around his neck tighter, stuffing his gloved hands into the pockets of his coat.

James falsely returned the bright smiles of passing Hogsmeade residents, many of whom either remembering him from his Hogwarts years or recognising him as one of the best Aurors in the department.

His internal despair was lifted partially as he inhaled the familiar smells of Hogsmeade; he had little time nowadays to actually get out for some leisure activities, apart from late-night/early-morning pub visits. He caught the sound of Remus sighing in frustration and impatience.

"Oi, Padfoot! Hurry up, I'm freezing!" Remus shouted, teeth chattering loudly.

A vague noise of assent drifted out, and James smiled, his mood brightening somewhat as he shook his head. "Some things never change," he murmured happily.

Eventually, after several minutes, Sirius Black wondered out of the Three Broomsticks with a cheerful grin. "Why so down, Moony my man? It's Christmas! A time of love and joy and general merriments all around!" He slung an arm around Remus' shoulders. "Why, I can feel a little song coming on –"

"NO!" both James and Remus exclaimed simultaneously, horrified expressions dawning on their faces.

"Oh, fine," Sirius huffed. "… hey, remember that party after that Quidditch match against Slytherin in sixth year? Man, _that_ was one hell of a carry – kary-oh-key party, huh?"

"'Karaoke', Sirius," Remus corrected, rolling his amber eyes.

"Yeah, whatever," Sirius waved a hand flippantly. "Trisha Hopkins could really hit some high notes, huh? Shattered a few Butterbeer glasses, that was quite a sight."

"Lily has a voice –" James began, but was knowingly cut off by the other two.

"- like an angel, we know," Remus and Sirius chorused, rolling their eyes.

James smiled, suddenly looking forlorn, as they ambled slowly up the trail leading to Hogwarts. "She used to sing Hayden and… Harry to sleep every night," he began wistfully. "And at Christmas, we'd all share the same room and she would get out a Muggle radio and turn on some Muggle Christmas songs. Harry really liked that, and he'd always cry out for Lily to sing this one song for him again. _Twelve Days of Christmas_, I think it was."

Sirius and Remus smiled softly, trudging through the snow at a steady pace as they listened attentively to James. He didn't speak much more after that, and they continued up the trail to Hogwarts in silence.

At the entrance doors, they were greeted by Lily, magically levitating three hot cups of tea and one hot chocolate for Remus, smiling gently.

"Thanks, Lils," James sighed appreciatively, holding his cup in both hands. "Where's Hayden?"

Lily smiled, "Still asleep."

Remus drank his beverage slowly while Sirius practically downed his in one gulp before banishing the cup towards the kitchens.

"Sorry, I need to use the bathroom!"

He dashed away, hearing laughter behind him as he sprinted down the hallways towards the nearest bathroom. After relieving himself, he paused in thought before grinning and making his way to Gryffindor Tower.

He whistled merrily as he passed the familiar portraits adorning the walls, waving at some and before long, he was standing in front of the familiar portrait guarding the Gryffindor common room.

"Hello again, my dear Lady," he grinned cheerily at the Fat Lady. "It's lovely to see you again. To think, I spent all those years away from Hogwarts and never came to visit you from time to time. Really, I'm truly and deeply sorry, my dear."

"Sirius Black; still as charming as ever," the Fat Lady giggled, obviously a little tipsy. "Well, go on, you rogue; the password?"

"Mistletoe woes," Sirius replied with a grin.

He slipped inside quietly and looked around the empty common room wistfully. _'Ah, memories, memories…'_ He quickly affirmed that no-one was around and transformed into his Animagus form, slinking stealthily up the stairs. His Grim-like form, although large, was quick and quiet, and within seconds, he had nudged the first-year dormitory door open and was inside.

Padfoot listened carefully, and once he was sure no-one was awake, he padded softly across the room towards a four-poster bed with a familiar trunk with the initials 'H.A.P.' at the foot. The large dog was only a foot away from the bed when his nose caught a familiar scent; one he wasn't able to put a face to, and he paused, one foot raised.

He struggled for a few minutes, attempting to remember what was so… so… so _familiar_ about the scent, and after a few minutes, Padfoot's curiosity won over Sirius' hesitance and the black, shaggy dog trotted easily to the next bed over from Hayden's. The curtains were drawn tight around the bed, and he hesitated, not wanting to intrude into someone else's personal space yet wanting just as much to investigate the familiar scent.

He sat down, still in his Animagus form, with a dog's equivalent of a frown on his face, staring hard at the closed curtains.

Eventually, he firmly decided not to peek in, and was about to turn back to the prospect of waking Hayden by means of a thorough face-wash when the curtains of the mystery four-poster bed were yanked aside quietly and abruptly. The sudden movement startled Padfoot, and he leapt up quickly to all fours.

A thin, brown-haired boy stepped out from behind the curtains, stopping dead upon seeing the large, shaggy dog practically standing on his feet staring at him.

Sirius inwardly cursed, but didn't move for fear of scaring the boy, whose brown eyes were staring at him uncomprehendingly. His own grey eyes met the brown of the boy's, but for a fleeting second he expected to see clear, sparkling green behind a pair of spectacles. The sudden expectance melted away quickly, confusing him.

Boy and dog stared at each other for a long, drawn out moment, and Sirius took the time to observe the boy; thin, average height, short brown hair, brown eyes with dark shadows, and the worn, dark clothing practically hung off the boy like a coat hanger. Sirius sniffed the boy softly, and ascertained that the scent he had smelt earlier was the boy, much to his confusion, but the boy also seemed familiar.

It took him a while to place it, but he soon remembered the boy from Ollivander's in Diagon Alley. Hayden had introduced him as Evan Reeds, but Sirius had been a little distracted at the time. With a jolt, he suddenly remembered the boy from the Leaky Cauldron as the boy that had tumbled out of the Floo. Human noses weren't as adept as canines', but he had been within relatively close distance of the boy that day, so perhaps it would explain why he smelt familiar.

The theory didn't fit, though, and he subconsciously knew that he had smelt this scent many times before, enough to engrave it into his mind, but it had been so long…

He was suddenly aware of the boy's tense, rigid body, and looked up to find wide, brown eyes staring at him with an unusual expression on his face. Evan's mouth was slightly agape, and Padfoot could hear the boy's breathing quicken noticeably. Sirius immediately recognised it as a panic attack, and stepped back quickly to give the boy some space.

Evan's eyes tracked him, and then he suddenly ran full-pelt for the door, flinging the door open and leaving it ajar in his haste to flee. Sirius stared at the open door for a full minute, a look of utter bewilderment on his face. _'What in the world set that boy off?'_

A groan behind him brought him back to reality, and he turned his head to find a sleepy, tousled face with a mop of red hair staring at him.

"Padfoot?" Hayden yawned tremendously, rubbing his eyes. "S' that you?"

He received a sharp bark in return, followed by a wet, sloppy face-wash.

**XxX**

Harry cursed and swore repeatedly, over and over in his mind as he ran down the hallways of Hogwarts like death itself was chasing him. He cursed himself, he cursed his luck, and he cursed whatever deity was laughing itself silly at his plight.

In his haste to leave Gryffindor Tower and escape the vicinity of his Godfather, he had neglected to throw on a jacket and was starting to feel cold.

In all honesty, he was lucky that he'd ensured that his disguise and contacts were in place before stepping out of his silenced curtains. If he had forgotten even to change his hair… well, a lot of people used to say he was the spitting image of his father, and he didn't doubt that Sirius Black would recognise him, not to mention the fact that he'd have gotten a good whiff of his scent. A part of him kept thinking of the possibilities that his Godfather would remember his scent and eventually figure out his ploy, and yet another part of him _wanted_ his Godfather to find out.

He dashed around a corner and his eyes widened in shock. Reflexively, he dove and slid across the floor on his stomach and straight under and between the legs of one James Potter. He barely had time to process what had just transpired in a mere second when he crashed into the legs of a statue of armour, sending the reflective metal pieces flying in every which direction, most of which toppled onto him.

James Potter blinked once, then twice, before a groan from under the pile of armour roused him from his shock. He hurried forward and magically repaired the armour. The kid, groaning painfully, accepted his hand for help and when James saw his face, he recognised him as the boy from Ollivander's.

"You all right, kid? Nothing broken?" he watched the boy – Earl? Edgar? – freeze, as if mortified.

"S-sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going, and I was kinda in a hurry, and –"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down there, kid," he grinned at the boy in an attempt to soothe the boy's nerves. "I've seen you around, before, haven't I?"

The brown-haired boy nodded uncertainly, and stuck out a hand, "Evan Reeds, sir. We first met in Ollivander's." _'No, we've known each other for most of our lives!'_ was what he wanted to scream.

"Ah, yes, I remember now. Are you having a good time at Hogwarts?" _'Wonder why he's so nervous…'_

"Yes, sir," Evan murmured. "It's fantastic."

"Good, good," James paused momentarily, before remembering something. "So, why the rush? You looked as if the grim reaper was coming after you."

"Ah," the boy looked vaguely uncomfortable now, "It's nothing major. It's a bit silly…"

James, sensing that it was an awkward subject, tactfully changed topics. "So…" he cleared his throat, "Aren't you cold?"

Harry blinked, before glancing down at himself and remembering that he'd forgotten a jacket and he was starting to feel chilly. "Not really, sir."

"Well if you're sure…" he shook his head. "Anyway, don't call me sir, it makes me sound like an evil, sadistic, power-bent maniac. Just call me James, or Mr. Potter. Can I call you Evan?"

"Yes, si –" Harry paused "– Mr. Potter." _'Damnit, I really wanna call you "Dad"…'_

James smiled. "So, is breakfast still available this late in the holidays?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter. There's still about a half-hour left." Harry fidgeted slightly. "… do you need me to show you to the Great Hall?"

"No, not really, but I could use the company… if you're not too busy, that is."

'_Against my better judgement…'_ "Well… I was just heading there, anyway…"

"Great!" James clapped his hands together enthusiastically. "Let's go now, then."

The two walked in a somewhat uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, during which Harry both panicked internally and relished in the feeling of walking beside his father again.

'_What do I do? Well, what do I normally do when I'm walking with someone I haven't seen in years? What should I talk about? I don't normally talk with people I walk with, but should it be different now? Should I talk about the weather? Idiot! It's December, the weather's cold, it's snowing, the weather hasn't changed for weeks! Should I ask him about his job? No, it sounds like a bit of a formal topic… I can't just ask, "So how's life without your first son, Harry? Is Mum okay? What about Remus and Sirius? Did you know I just saw Padfoot? Scared the hell outta me, too." Yes, now __**that**__ would be a wonderful topic of discussion. What is he doing here, anyway? And Sirius? Is Remus here as well?'_

"James! There you are!"

A shout from ahead brought both of them out of their musings, and interrupted Harry before he could get the first words of his query past his lips. He looked up to see Professor Potter (Lily) running towards them, looking harried and annoyed.

"Lily-dearest! What's the matter?" James smiled charmingly.

Harry felt vaguely uncomfortable to be bearing witness to their affections, and, unsure of what to do, merely hovered in the background trying not to eavesdrop and finding the crack in the wall next to him extremely intriguing.

"Sirius was up in Gryffindor Tower as Padfoot and he just _had_ to scare off a first year, I mean, _honestly_, has he no brains at all? The poor kid ran off and is probably scared witless," Lily shook her head agitatedly. "I swear, one day I will…" she trailed off upon noticing Harry, and frowned in thought before her face cleared up and calmed down slightly.

"Ah… I take it you were the kid?"

Slightly ashamed and by no small means thoroughly embarrassed, Harry lowered his gaze and nodded. He knew they would misinterpret his fleeing as a phobia of dogs or something similar… _'That's it! I can pretend to be scared of dogs! Brilliant – now I just need a cover story…'_

"Erm… you explain this one, Lily," James smiled sheepishly, cringing a little under his wife's stern gaze. "Actually, you know what? I think I'll do it, you go on ahead to breakfast." He cleared his throat nervously. "Well… for starters, I guess the best way to explain this would be to start… umm…"

"The beginning would be good," Harry choked out before he even realised he had spoken. He flushed under his (unaware) parents' eyes, looking down at his shoes. "Sorry."

"Well, anyway… umm, long story short, the dog that you met in Gryffindor Tower isn't _really_ a dog, I mean, it _is_, but well, it's also a human…" James paused, frowning at his own reasoning. "Okay, that dog was actually Sirius Black in his Animagus form. There's no need to be afraid of him, he was probably just trying to prank Hayden."

"We're sorry about him, Evan, but Sirius can be… well, a bit immature at times."

Harry smiled at them shyly, waving away their apologies. "No, it's nothing. Really, it's all right – I was just startled, is all, and I've got a slight phobia of dogs…" he flushed under their unwavering gazes. "Sorry. I'll just be excused now. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Potter, by Professor."

James and Lily both watched Evan as he headed down the corridor, until he turned a corner and out of sight. James turned to his wife and slung an arm around her waist affectionately, smiling softly as he kissed her cheek. "I missed you, you know that? It was really, really, _really_ aggravating spending hours on end with just Sirius for company. I'll never complain again! And we had to live off of our ration bars when Sirius burnt down the –" the Auror cut himself off abruptly, blanching when his wife turned to face him with a deadly glint in her eyes.

"Burnt down what, exactly?"

James swallowed, suddenly glad that he had already written his will.

**XxX**

Harry wandered slowly into the Great Hall, subconsciously noting the small numbers of people present. He sat down at his usual seat and helped himself to bacon, eggs and toast, all the while pondering his chance (or maybe not) meeting with his father.

After a few monotonous minutes of methodically devouring his breakfast, the sound of a large group chatting grew louder as they neared the Great Hall. He looked up curiously, as he finished the last bite of toast, to see the Potters, plus one Ron Weasley. He sipped his apple juice and watched them over the rim of his glass as they passed.

They looked happy, and Harry felt another pang of longing and remorse for what he was obviously missing out on; family. They were laughing uproariously, then they would pause a moment as someone cracked another joke or wisecrack, and then they'd laugh even harder, banging the table in their euphoria. Even the other students at the three other tables – minus the Slytherins – would smile softly before going back to their own business.

Harry himself couldn't hold back a smile as he observed his family. James Potter, his father, was holding his sides in laughter, the sides of his eyes crinkling as he smiled broadly. His hazel eyes sparkled behind his glasses; eyes that could turn serious – deadly serious – in less than a split-second. _'Much like myself, I suppose,'_ he mused, swilling the juice around inside his mouth.

His eyes slid to the person sitting next to his father, Lily Potter. Her green eyes were as bright as the sun, brighter than he had ever remembered, and he couldn't help but compare his eyes to hers. His, during the months he'd spent on the streets, had dulled to a darker emerald colour, like an emerald jewel that lurked in the shadows; no light reflected in his eyes, he was sure, and now he had to hide them – the only traits he had so far inherited from his mother – behind brown contacts. _'Would my eyes be like hers – bright green – if I hadn't been left in the orphanage?'_

Sirius Black sat across from his mother, laughing just as loudly as his father as he downed copious amounts of pumpkin juice (_'He LIKES that stuff?'_), blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Harry could almost _hear_ the shudder his mother was experiencing ("A Sirius-warning if I ever saw one," she used to state gravely).

Remus Lupin… he looked… _older_, with his light brown hair streaked with more greys, his face bore more scars than he remembered and his amber eyes seemed more… tired; wearisome. But – and what Harry observed next made his heart stop beating for a moment – more importantly, Remus Lupin, werewolf and Godfather to Hayden, was _sniffing the air_.

His eyes widened and the glass of apple juice paused half-way to his lips, watching Remus as he smelt the air more and more often, a frown of one thinking or trying to recall something, and…

And he knew that he had to get away.

He set down his still half-full glass of juice, stood up as calmly as he could while his heart was beating rapidly and his thoughts were bouncing around his mind erratically – thoughts of half-crazed escapes, tearful reunions, food-fight distractions and claiming a UFO sighting just so that everyone would look up and then he could get away – and at that precise moment, he saw Remus' eyes widen almost comically, and he knew in that instant that his uncle remembered.

By the time Remus' brain processed what he couldn't believe for a moment, and by the time he glanced up sharply to find the source of _that_ scent, Harry was gone, out of the Great Hall in a flash and running for the library as fast as he could. Remus stared around the Hall for a long minute, trying to verify that it _was_ Harry's scent that he'd smelt, hoping against hope…

… but it was obvious Harry wasn't there.

He sniffed the air again, and he could definitely smell Harry – slightly different, of course, but still Harry's – but he couldn't pinpoint it precisely, what with all the varying smells of food, other humans, so it wasn't much of a surprise. A disappointment, yes, but not a surprise. Lily seemed to lock onto his discomfiture and immediately honed in.

"Remus? Is something wrong?"

Remus didn't answer immediately, scanning the Great Hall and its occupants before smiling somewhat sadly at Lily. "It's nothing. Just thought I smelt something."

Lily shot him a dubious look before she was distracted by her husband, Sirius and Hayden engaging in a pea-flinging war. "Boys!"

Meanwhile, Harry had just skidded into the library, much to the ire of Madam Pince. He offered a quick apology as he darted into the Charms section. He scanned the titles hastily, searching for the book he had read only last week.

His eyes followed his fingers as they slid from one tome to the next, reading the title before darting to the next. When he had scanned the whole section, he uttered an oath quietly (mindful of Madam Pince's sharp hearing) and scanned the whole section again. The second search proved fruitless, and he ran his hands through his hair agitatedly before moving to the librarian's desk.

"Madam Pince? I'm looking for _Charming Disguises_ by Gilberto Inico, and it's not on the shelf."

Harry forced himself to refrain from fidgeting under Madam Pince's sharp scrutiny. She peered at him intently through her glasses, before shuffling away with a curt command to wait and came back holding the book Harry wanted. She handed it over to him carefully, still eyeing him suspiciously, which Harry tried to ignore as he secured a desk for himself.

He flipped through the pages quickly, until he found the chapter on Charms used to disguise, alter, or hide one's scent from predators. He skimmed through the paragraph once before taking out a spare scrap of parchment and scribbling down the spell and theory for scent-changing.

Once he had acquired what he wanted, he returned the book to its original shelf and muttered a quick 'thanks' to Madam Pince as he headed out for his dorm.

He walked quickly through the quiet hallways, trying not to think of the possible outcome of bumping into Remus Lupin alone, and being found out. He peeked around each corner cautiously, thinking all the while that he must look stupid, but still doing it anyway.

Being so caught up in his wariness, he was surprised when he realised he was standing in front of the Fat Lady's portrait, and muttered the password quietly. He peeked inside the common room hesitantly, and upon seeing it was empty, proceeded straight upstairs to his dorm.

Inside, he shut and locked the door, wrenched the hangings around his bed and silenced them as an extra precaution. He pulled out the scrap of paper and his wand, silently going through the spell in his mind.

Using magic without a wand was second-nature to him, but he had found a dramatic difference between using a wand and not using it. Wands helped centre his (and most likely everyone else's) magic, and guided the flow of power easily down his arm and channel it out through his wand, allowing more accuracy and control.

Wandless magic, however, drained his magical core quicker, taxing him out easily and it was more erratic, and more prone to coming out in large spurts of power. He found this out the hard way, unleashing a Stunning spell one day when cornered by a gang and, not only Stunning every single person within a good five or six metres, drained his magical core hugely to the point that he collapsed and slept for a whole day. He was lucky enough that day that he had collapsed under a heap of garbage, so when the gang members came too, they couldn't finish him off in his vulnerable state. When he came to, he had barely enough strength to stumble out of the rain and into a decently adequate hide-out, where he promptly passed out again and slept for another two days without waking.

That was why he only used his magic for minor situations, as the more power a spell required, the more likely he was to over-charge it and knock himself out.

He set the parchment aside and took a few moments to practise the wand movement as he readied himself, before clearly intoning the incantation while waving his wand over his head in a series of semi-complex swirls and jabs.

When he finished, he cautiously sniffed himself, but couldn't really detect any difference. _'I suppose werewolf noses would come in handy right now.'_ He frowned, unsure whether the spell worked or not. _'Only one way to find out.'_ He burned the scrap of parchment and cancelled the Silencing Charm on his hangings before he opened the unlocked dormitory door and went downstairs.

Surprisingly, the common room was still empty, considering the fact that there were quite a few Gryffindors plus the Potters, Sirius and Remus at Hogwarts, the only movement coming from the flickering of the flames in the hearth. He frowned, zipping up his worn jacket before shrugging and exiting.

Harry walked cautiously through the eerily quiet hallways, passing Peeves (who tried to pelt him with dungbombs) and eventually reached the Entrance Hall. He paused, and abruptly changed directions to walk briskly out of the large oak doors, where the winter wonderland nearly blinded his eyes.

Outside, the frosty wind bit his cheeks, making him shiver. He flipped the hood of his jacket up over his head and set off for the frozen lake. Idly, he wondered what the giant squid was doing, and was so immersed in his thoughts that he was quite stunned when something cold hit the side of his head, crumbling over his jacket.

"Sorry, Evan!" Hayden called out from behind him, "We're just having a snowball fight!"

Harry contented himself with a simple wave, and was about to turn away when his brother called out again, "Hey, you wanna join?"

Harry paused in mid-turn. Hayden smiled at him brightly, red-faced and wind-swept. Harry saw his parents in the distance, as well as Sirius and Remus. Ron stood next to Hayden, holding a snowball in each hand. He felt torn between agreeing and fleeing back into the castle, and merely shrugged.

"Oh, okay," Hayden looked a little disappointed at this. "Well, see you around, yeah?"

"Sure," Harry called out.

Once his family was engaged in their snow fight, he ducked down and crept around the group. He couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips, feeling mischievous. Once positioned behind Hayden, he quickly formed a few snowballs and crept closer. Hayden was laughing, clearly distracted.

It was now or never.

He inhaled deeply, and released it in a grunt as he pumped his arm and threw the snowball as hard as he could towards his brother. His aim proved true, as the sphere of snow struck Hayden hard in the side of his head. His twin toppled over with a yelp, his cloak finely coated with specks of white.

"What the –" Ron turned in surprise, and he too followed Hayden as a snowball struck him square in the face.

He came up spluttering madly, his reddening face (whether from cold or embarrassment or anger) blotchy with patches of pristine white snow. The redhead quickly brushed the snow out of his eyes and looked down the small hill that he and Hayden had been occupying to see… nothing.

He blinked in confusion, and was startled when Hayden yelped again and yanked him down roughly. He cried out in protest, but his voice was silenced when he noticed the huge pile of snow that had somehow managed to sail over them, missing them by a few mere inches.

"Who –"

"Hey Evan!" Hayden laughed cheerfully, waving toward the brown-haired youth behind them. "That wasn't exactly fair, y'know."

"Fair's fair; you had your back turned, I had a snowball in my hand – it was just meant to be," Harry shrugged, despite the smile that was growing on his face.

"Well come on, then, we need to sort out the teams!"

Harry grinned, and trudged through the crisp white snow toward the gathering.

The afternoon blurred by for Harry, but he felt immeasurable joy as he laughed with his family and hurled snowballs around the grounds, arguing good-naturedly about menial things. It was childish, sure, but he truly enjoyed himself for the first time in years.

When they finally realised that dusk had begun to settle over the castle, they dragged themselves out of the snow, feeling more than a little cold and quite thoroughly drenched. In the Entrance Hall, James, Lily, Sirius and Remus quickly cast drying and warming Charms before moving off into the Great Hall. Ron, Hayden and Evan trudged up the marble staircase wearily, too tired to laugh, but instead filling the silence with meaningless talk.

Harry found that he was grinning madly, something that felt strange, but good on his face. He found himself joining in the conversation, and surprised himself, Ron and Hayden with the amount of words he found he had to say.

They clambered through the portrait hole eventually and went up the boys' stairs. In their dorm, they sifted through their belongings slowly, keeping the noise going with a fresh topic: Quidditch.

"I'm telling you, the Cannons could win the Cup! They've got a good team, and their strategies aren't half-bad, either…"

"But they're set to play off against the Harpies soon, and let's face it: the Harpies are so going to wipe the ground under the Cannons," Hayden argued seriously as he retrieved his towel. "And the Irish National team has just recently signed on a new Chaser, Troy. He's got excellent aim, and good interceptions."

"Yeah, but he doesn't work well with the other two Chasers; it doesn't matter if he's good or not, if they can't work together they'll lose."

"Hey, what position matters more in World Cup game compared to an average school game?" Harry called out from within his shower stall as Hayden and Ron stepped under the faucets of their cubicles. He had let his hair revert back to its original state: long, scruffy and black.

"Well, in a Hogwarts game, the Seeker would probably hold more importance and more responsibility, as the outcome rarely, if ever, depends on the Chasers, Keepers, or Beaters, but they're important as well," Hayden explained. "A World Cup game would tend to be more strategic, but I reckon every single position is just as important as another."

"Huh," Harry mused.

"D'you like Quidditch, Evan?" Ron asked. "Any position that particularly interests you?"

"Dunno, really," Harry lied, twisting the water knob and ceasing the water flow abruptly. "Haven't really thought about it much."

"Well, I reckon maybe Chaser; you've got the right build. And good aim to go with it," Ron commented lightly.

Harry smiled wistfully as he allowed his black hair to shrink back into his scalp and change back to Evan Reed's brown. "Yeah, I suppose," he mumbled, running a hand through his short hair absently.

**XxX**

The remainder of the Potters', Sirius' and Remus' stay at Hogwarts were the best days of Harry's so-far gloomy life. He partook in more of their activities and joined them in discussions of Quidditch over dinner. More than once he looked up at the High Table to see Dumbledore smiling at him or McGonagall to turn away discreetly and wipe her eyes.

The days leading up to Christmas seemed to go by so quickly and absolutely crammed full with fun and games when compared to the previous Christmases he had spent alone at the orphanage.

The scent-disguising Charm he had found seemed to work wonders, as Remus never once sniffed twice in his presence. He found that he was spending little-to-no time in the library but couldn't care less; the solitude of the library was starting to grate on his nerves.

The days were spent outside playing with the snow, making impossibly large snowmen and snow castles, and then using snowballs to pelt at each other's defences in an all-out snow war. Once, Lily even brought out skates and they all went onto the frozen lake, slipping and sliding everywhere. Only the History of Magic Professor was managing to stay balanced, but everyone still had fun nonetheless.

Dinners were noisy affairs, with a food fight having erupted once between James and Sirius, but it was quickly headed off by both Lily and McGonagall. After that, things at dinner returned to conversation – loud and noisy.

He could never seem to get enough out of the conversations. One minute he'd be talking animatedly with James about Aurors and policemen (he had no idea how that topic had started), the next he was discussing magic with Remus. Then he was stuck in the middle of an argument between Ron and Hayden about which Quidditch team was the best, both trying to persuade 'Evan' to join their side and back them up.

The remainder of the Potter's, Sirius' and Remus' week-long stay at Hogwarts seemed to blur by, and on Christmas morning, the last day of their visit, he woke up extremely elated and sad.

This would be his first Christmas in a while with his family, and then he wouldn't be able to see them again. He lay in his comfortable four-poster bed, once again marvelling at the sheer softness and warmth the duvet provided for a minute before sitting upright. He shivered slightly; his nightwear wasn't exactly practical for winter, with just a threadbare grey shirt and shorts. He rubbed his eyes, yawning, as his other hand groped blindly around the bedside table for his contacts.

Out of habit, one hand slipped down to his ankle and touched the hilt of the small dagger he always kept on him. Satisfied, he yawned again and was suddenly aware of his long black hair brushing the back of his neck. He sighed and screwed his eyes shut, concentrating on short brown hair. When he no longer felt the brush of hair against his neck, he reached up and ran a hand through it absently.

Applying his disguise every morning was becoming extremely tiresome, and he longed for a day when he could just let his disguise drop and walk around the castle freely. He honestly missed being himself, and although at times he felt an urge to forgo his alias, the thought of protecting his brother was always at the forefront of his mind.

He had not forgotten the troll incident at Halloween or Quirrell's unusual and scary behaviour, although at times he wondered whether he had been hallucinating, or even dreamt up the whole scenario.

After spending a moment pondering not for the first time about Quirrell, Harry shook his head and pushed back the covers. He had managed yet another night without a nightmare, for which he was extremely grateful, but out of precaution, he still cast Silencing Charms around his bed. A part of him wondered if his nightmares had stopped briefly because he was actually happy and his family was around, but another was fearful that once they left, he would be alone again with only his nightmares.

He grabbed his head with both hands and shook himself violently. "Get a grip, Harry," he muttered. _'Warning number one: when you start talking to yourself, you know you've got issues_._'_

Harry sighed and slid out of bed, and with a fresh bundle of clothes under his arm, he stepped out from his hangings and hurried to the bathroom. Ron and Hayden were still sleeping, but would no doubt get up soon.

After a hot shower, Harry stepped out and wiped away the condensation on the mirror and saw with a start that he had forgotten to shift his scar to a less conspicuous location. He suddenly picked up the creaking of the bathroom door handle and hastily screwed up his face, his heart pounding in his ears.

The door opened, and the steam that had gathered in the bathroom rushed out, briefly obscuring the newcomer's vision.

"What the –" Hayden spluttered, waving a hand frantically back and forth. "Whoa… hey, up all ready, Evan?" he pulled off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt, peering at Harry's blurry figure.

"Um, yeah," Harry responded, his heart still racing. He quickly pretended to be washing his face, although the cold water seemed like a slap to the face. "You're up early too – earlier than usual."

That had been an extremely close call. Harry felt extremely relieved that the steam had fogged up Hayden's glasses, and

"Of course!" Hayden laughed, smiling widely. "It's Christmas!"

Harry blinked at the sudden show of enthusiasm, but could help the smile that tugged at his lips. "Yeah, it is too…"

"Ron's all ready up as well; he's just getting dressed. Mum and Dad are probably down in the common room waiting for us now, and Remus and Sirius are probably getting breakfast for us," Hayden spoke rapidly, eyes shining. "We're gonna have a lot of fun today – a snowball fight on the lake, marshmallow toasting – but first…" Hayden trailed off in suspense, grinning widely.

Harry stared at him. "First what?"

"Presents!"

Hayden grinned widely, but it shrank a little when Harry stood motionless and silent, staring at Hayden with an odd expression on his face. His grin disappeared, replaced by a frown, as he stepped forward hesitantly. "Evan? Evan, mate – what's up?"

Harry continued to stare at him. "Presents?"

"Yeah…" Hayden affirmed, bewildered. "You know… gifts… oh Merlin, I completely forgot!" Hayden's eyes widened. "Oh… right… umm, you didn't really get presents at the uh, orphanage, right?"

Harry blinked slowly before turning and leaving the bathroom, trapped in a sort of daze. He passed Ron, who poked his head out between his hangings and glanced from Hayden to Harry, a confused frown on his face. Harry pushed his hangings almost gently apart and sat down on his unmade bed.

Hayden stepped back out and headed immediately to the brown-haired boy's side, closely followed by Ron. He sat down hesitantly next to 'Evan', whose shoulders were slumped and eyes downcast.

"Evan?" Hayden probed tentatively, "Evan – I'm sorry – I forgot that you – I'm sorry, I was tactless…"

"No, it's not that," Harry mumbled, his face in his hands. "It's just… I didn't… well," Harry took a deep breath and looked up squarely at them. "I didn't get any of you any gifts," he said softly.

Hayden blinked. He looked at Ron, who was hovering uncomfortably nearby. "Ah… it's alright, Evan. It doesn't matter – you don't have all that much money, right? So, really, it's alright… right, Ron?"

Ron nodded firmly; as his family was usually short on money, he understood what it was like. "Yeah, 'course it's alright!" he smiled bracingly, "it's alright if you didn't get us any presents this year. I mean, I can't usually get anything too fancy for anyone; it's usually just some chocolate. Look – here's yours…"

Ron dug into a relatively small pile (when compared to Ron's and Hayden's collection of gifts) at the foot of Harry's bed. He soon pulled out a bar of chocolate and tossed it to Harry, who snatched it out of mid-air in a daze. He stared at the candy in his hand and then back at the pile of presents – _his_ pile of presents.

He looked at Hayden and Ron, who were smiling at him encouragingly. Slowly, he unwrapped a corner of the bar and took a small bite.

Ron and Hayden continued to smile brightly at him, and this time, Harry smiled back.

**XxX**

Christmas day seemed too good to be true.

Harry spent the morning opening his presents with relish, despite the slight guilt he felt about not getting his family and Ron some presents as well. To be honest, he hadn't thought about presents; the thought of being found out by his family had dominated his mind far too much, and then he was too preoccupied with the joy of being able to join his family in Christmas activities.

His trust fund in Gringotts only allowed enough money for the bare necessities each year, but his customised trunk had chipped out a large dent in his galleon pile, leaving only three galleons and twelve sickles in his vault. He could only fervently hope that he wouldn't have to spend so much next year, and with the prospect of needing a trunk gone, he felt slightly positive that he would have enough galleons next year to buy some Christmas presents as well.

Breakfast in the common room was hearty, with the fire blazing and drinking mugs of hot liquid – Harry's family hadn't minded the fact that he didn't have any presents for them. Sirius had jokingly said that he'd be expecting more presents next year, but hastily backed off when Lily smacked him around the head.

Harry only smiled and nodded.

He was surprised by the presents he did receive, from his father, mother, Godfather and honorary uncle, as well as the Quidditch-themed books he received from Hayden and Ron. Lily had apparently noticed his clothing dilemma and had given him a large bundle of Muggle clothing, for which he was extremely grateful. James and Sirius had given him a wristwatch and Remus had given him a thick, hardcover Muggle book about a murder mystery, which Harry immediately dived into.

After lunch, they trooped outside and had a snowball war on the frozen surface of the lake, with ice-skates strapped to their feet. Lily had chosen to sit out, and watched on amusedly as the five wizards slipped and skidded every which way, dodging and throwing snowballs all the while.

When Hayden started sneezing continuously, Lily called a halt and ushered Hayden up to the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey immediately went into a fit and ushered Hayden into one of the beds despite his protests. She bustled about his bed and waved her wand like a conductor's baton, muttering under her breath all the while.

Eventually, after much persuasion and reassurances, Hayden was released from the Hospital Wing, and joined them in Gryffindor common room again.

Dinner was a noisy affair, and Harry caught Dumbledore smiling more than a little widely. He couldn't help but notice that Quirrell was absent, but as it was the holidays, he dismissed it, turning his attention back to the conversation between Sirius and Hayden.

When Dumbledore raised his goblet in a toast, however, he scowled and turned away. He had not been on good terms with the Headmaster lately, because of their discussion back in November when Harry had asked about the Stone that Hayden, Ron and Hermione had been talking about. When Dumbledore had refused to answer, and pressed Harry as to whom he heard about it from, Harry had stubbornly refused to answer unless Dumbledore answered as well.

With the subject of the Stone at a dead end, conversation had turned to Quirrell and Harry told the Professor his suspicions, which were seemingly brushed aside. Angry and fed-up, Harry had stormed from the Headmaster's office and headed straight for the Quidditch pitch, where he spent the remainder of the night.

"Hey, Evan – you listening, mate?" Ron called out, holding in one hand a goblet of eggnog.

Harry turned back to the redhead, letting his anger seep away. "Yeah – yeah, sorry. Go on."

That night, in the common room, they all sat around the fire in a semicircle. With packets of marshmallows at hand, they used Levitation Charms as replacements for sticks, magically lifting the marshmallows near the fire until they were toasted to their specific preferences.

At one point, during a break in their carolling while toasting the marshmallows, a competition was instigated. The goal was to levitate as many marshmallows as they could at one time and what tricks they could make them do. Sirius won; he and his crew of candy acted out a mystery play complete with a ventriloquist act from Sirius. In the end, the marshmallows all had a dramatic duel, in which every piece but one was thrown into the fire. The lone piece was eaten.

Eventually, at about midnight, James stood up and announced that they had to leave, much to Harry's disappointment. The bespectacled Auror exchanged goodbyes with Hayden, Ron, Harry and kissed his wife goodbye. Sirius and Remus followed suit – minus the kissing – and soon, the three men had gone out the portrait hole.

Harry stared after them sadly, but smiling. A loud yawn interrupted his thoughts and Lily stood at that moment as well.

"All right, you three; bed – now." Lily raised a hand to stem the beginning of what would most likely have been protests from Hayden. "No buts, Hayden. It's midnight, you've had a long day, and I've noticed that you've yet to even start your holiday homework. Go to bed now, and tomorrow you will start on your homework."

"Aww, Mum," Hayden protested, stifling a yawn.

"Now, young man," Lily said sternly.

Grumbling and yawning, Hayden ambled upstairs slowly with Ron right beside him. Harry didn't follow; instead, he waited by his favourite armchair by the fireplace nervously. Lily turned, and the surprise was evident in her face.

"Something wrong, Evan?" she asked gently.

"Umm, no, not really," Harry said softly. "I just wanted to… thank you for the clothes you gave me," he said shyly, staring at the carpet fixedly. "And I'm sorry for not getting you – not getting _any_ of you any gifts."

Lily knelt down next to him. "Evan, there is absolutely no need to be sorry. It's completely understandable."

'_No it isn't – not for me,'_ Harry thought miserably.

"Evan, there is nothing to be sorry for – understood?" Lily stared at him intently until he nodded, albeit tentatively. "Good. Now off you go – you must be bone-tired."

"Okay," Harry yawned. "I'll get you all a lot more presents next year," he murmured, "I promise." He weaved around the armchairs and to the stairs. "Goodnight, Professor."

"Goodnight, Harry," Lily murmured. She waited until the brown-haired boy's foot had disappeared from view before turning and had barely taken three steps before what she had just said hit her. Green eyes widened and her head whipped back around, but Evan had already gone.

'_Why did I just call him Harry?'_ she wondered numbly. _'And… why didn't he correct me?'_

* * *

Author's Note: Yes, this chapter is finally, _finally_ up. Over two months, and this is the product… I'm not very proud of myself. Are you happy with this result? If not… then you may slap me and terrorise me with pitchforks. In fact, why don't all of you slap me and terrorise me for keeping you waiting for so long. Go on – I won't be mad… much.

Okay, there's one little matter I've been asked to state clearly. Please read this part, because we will be very annoyed if it happens again.

First off: this account is shared by two (**TWO**) siblings. That's right: two. Not one, but two. (We're not twins, before anyone asks).

Second: We have stated very clearly in our profile which stories are written by whom. For your information, this fic is written by Blueberry Blaster. In fact, this has been the only fic written by Blueberry Blaster so far. All the others have been written by Alternate Blueberry Blaster. Our nicknames are: BB for Blueberry Blaster; ABB for Alternate Blueberry Blaster.

Alright, is that clear enough? Alright, I shall see you next time then. Hopefully, the next chapter won't take as long as this one. Thanks for all the reviews and helpful hints to update, and if you've been sticking with me and this story the whole time, I thank you wholeheartedly.

Toodles!

**Edited: 15th December, 2008**


	7. 6: Mark of a Reunion

**The Jaded Brothers: Trials of Magic**

By Blueberry Blaster

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. Any and all infringement is unintended.

* * *

**Chapter VI: Mark of a Reunion**

In the wee hours of the morning, a boy with short brown hair and brown eyes yawned widely, staring with unfocused eyes at the book propped up in his lap. His eyes ticked across the page and back, mindlessly reading the words yet not taking in the meanings behind them.

Harry Potter, under the guise of Evan Matthew Reeds, could not focus on anything but the fact that his twin brother Hayden was not anywhere to be found in Gryffindor tower.

When he first realised that his brother's bed was empty, he had panicked, leaping out of bed and hastily dressing, half-way down the stairs before he realised that he would never find Hayden in a castle like Hogwarts. So he decided to wait, knowing that he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, and had grabbed Remus' murder mystery novel.

That had been three hours ago.

Now, at half-past seven, he was sitting agitatedly in his favourite armchair by the hearth, unable to take in a single word of the novel. The flames had long ago flickered out of existence, and in their place were black pieces of coal and remnants of burnt wood.

'_Where is that fool?'_ he wondered, and not for the first time, _'it's been hours… maybe he got lost…'_

Abruptly, he straightened and snapped his book shut. He leapt to his feet, and cursed when his stiff legs gave out. He tumbled to the ground in an ungainly heap, scowling darkly. "Stupid…"

At that moment, the portrait swung open and one Hayden Potter scrambled in, tucking something silvery into his book bag. The red-haired boy looked up from closing the flap and halted, having noticed a tired Evan on the floor in front of the fireplace.

"Evan!" he exclaimed, surprised. "… What are you doing on the floor?"

Harry grunted, using the edge of a table to push himself back into the armchair. "Pins and needles," he explained shortly. "But never mind that – where have you been? Were you out all night?"

Hayden shifted his gaze, suddenly looking secretive. "I, uh, went for a walk. Couldn't sleep last night…"

He trailed off lamely, not meeting Harry's dubious gaze. "You went for a walk…" Harry clarified slowly. "For over three hours…" When Hayden nodded, he rolled his eyes with a snort. "Right. I'm not stupid, you know," he muttered, "but since you obviously don't want to tell me what you were doing all night, I won't ask anymore."

Hayden looked surprised, before smiling gratefully. "Thanks, mate." He yawned widely, obviously tired. "Blimey… how long have you been up?"

"Not as long as you," Harry answered readily, stretching out his legs experimentally. "But I'm more used to going on less sleep than you. You should go sleep for the rest of the day. I'll wake you in time for lunch."

Hayden nodded appreciatively. "Sure – sounds good. Have you finished all your homework?"

Harry snorted. "Nope. I still have the Defense and Transfiguration essay to finish. Oh, and about another quarter to go with the Herbology essay and about a half of the star map incomplete. What about you? Nearly done?"

Hayden chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, not exactly…" at Harry's raised eyebrow, he grinned sheepishly. "I've still got the Defense, Herbology and Potions essay – not to mention the star map for Astronomy."

"Term starts in four days," Harry reminded him casually, "and the rest of the school comes back in three. Not to be bossy or anything, but you might want to finish your essays before then," he suggested.

"Yeah, I will."

"Go sleep now," Harry instructed, "Your yawning is making me sleepy."

Hayden didn't respond, as he was yawning, and instead offered a short wave as he trudged up the stairs. Harry watched as his brother slowly ascended the stairs until he was no longer in sight before he pulled his book back towards him. _'Maybe I'll actually be able to read, now,'_ he mused dryly.

He was, in fact, able to focus more of his attention on his book now that he knew where Hayden was, and continued off from where he left off. He managed a full chapter before he heard footsteps and glanced up to see Ron, dressed and yawning, plodding down the stairs tiredly.

"Hey," Ron greeted as he sank into another armchair. "You're up early."

Harry raised an eyebrow, staring at him pointedly as he mentally marked his page and set the book down on the table. "It's half-past eight, Ron."

"Oh," Ron yawned again. "Well, that's still early."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on, then – maybe some breakfast will perk you up." He was standing before he had even finished speaking, and slipped his book into one of his jacket pockets, wandlessly shrinking it as he did so. He stepped out the portrait hole and waited outside until the redhead was finally beside him.

They walked alongside each other in companionable silence, meaning Ron was too sleepy to talk and Harry was content to let it stay that way. Looking outside the windows as they made their way to the Great Hall, Harry noticed absently that the sun was shining brightly. The snow carpeting the grounds reflected the light ten times brighter and made the mere act of glancing out a window blinding.

By the time they had descended the marble stairs to the Entrance Hall, Ron was yawning less frequently and more alert. He suddenly seemed to realise something with a jolt, and looked around them in confusion.

"Hey, where's Hayden?" he asked, frowning.

Harry stared at him, eyes dancing with barely-concealed amusement. "You only just noticed?"

Ron flushed. "Well, yeah, but I was tired!" he defended himself, "Not everyone needs as little sleep as you, Evan. Well," Ron paused, "maybe the seventh years, but they're studying for their N.E.W.T.s. Anyway, where's Hayden?"

Harry shook his head slowly, grinning in amusement. "He's still sleeping."

"Oh, okay," Ron fell silent as they entered the Great Hall, which was extremely empty and quiet. Only a few people sat at the four tables, including Fred, George and Percy at Gryffindor table. The Weasley twins noticed their approach and waved at them cheerfully. They waved back and sat down at the end of the Gryffindor table closest to the doors.

They ate breakfast in silence – until Ron cleared his throat awkwardly, and Harry glanced up at him from his bacon. He stared at the redhead, who was shifting uncomfortably in his chair and fidgeting with his fork. "… What?" Harry asked at last, idly musing that if it had been a month ago, he would have just returned straight back to his breakfast.

"Umm, well… I was wondering…" Ron started, his cheeks flushing slightly, "If – if you could – I mean, if you'd mind helping me with – with my homework?"

Harry stared at him. Ron flushed, mumbled a "never mind" and dropped his gaze to his breakfast. Harry's eyes remained fixed on the top of Ron's head, one eyebrow raised. Ron continued to pick at his breakfast, the tips of his ears bright red.

"… Sure."

"Huh?" Ron looked up, the sausage speared on his fork halfway to his mouth. "What?"

"Sure – I'll help you with your homework," Harry responded.

Ron gaped at him, before shaking his head and blinking rapidly. "Y-you're serious?"

Harry nodded calmly, returning to his breakfast like nothing had just transpired. "Sure."

"Thank you so much!" Ron grinned. He was slightly surprised when Harry smiled back, as the brown-haired boy had never spoken so much to him before Christmas. He felt slightly embarrassed, asking a Muggle-born Wizard for help, but he knew (and nearly every other Gryffindor as well) that Evan Reeds was extremely intellectual. Heck, even a few of the other Houses knew that!

"No problem," Harry pushed his plate away and grabbed a jug of orange juice. "So what did you need help with?" he asked as he poured an ample amount of orange liquid into his glass.

"Umm… basically... Defense, Herbology, Astronomy, and Potions," Ron grimaced slightly at the mention of the last subject. "Ugh, I _hate_ Potions."

"It's not bad," Harry commented idly, causing Ron to choke on his mouthful of toast. The brown-haired boy glanced at his companion with a raised eyebrow, continuing to speak when Ron seemed incapable of any other action than soundlessly moving his lips, mouthing indiscernible words. "I admit Snape makes it worse, but if he weren't around – not to mention Malfoy and his cronies – Potions lessons wouldn't be half bad."

"You're joking, mate," Ron breathed, wide-eyed. "No way could _anyone_ say that Potions isn't a pain."

Harry stared at him, an eyebrow raised. Ron shifted under his gaze, before groaning aloud, "Quit staring at me like that!"

"Like what?"

"That! With that damned eyebrow thing!"

Harry continued to stare at him – with the eyebrow raised. Ron groaned and let his head fall with a _thump_ onto the table top, thankfully missing his cutlery by a mere inch. The corner of Harry's lips quirked up slightly, melting back into its usual neutral line when Ron looked up again.

Ron sighed mentally when Harry returned to his orange juice. "So… I'll just go get my books and meet you in the library?" he asked, standing up.

"Sure," Harry nodded vaguely. He took another sip of his orange juice as Ron walked away.

He sat alone and contemplatively, mulling over the mysterious secret that Hayden seemed so reluctant to share. He knew it was none of his business, but he couldn't help the faint stirrings of maddening curiousity beginning to fill his mind. _'It'd be easy,'_ he thought, _'to just follow Hayden whenever he goes out again and find out what he's been doing.'_

He shook his head abruptly in annoyance, frowning as he attempted to banish the idea. _'No; I won't betray Hayden's trust. This isn't about satisfying your curiousity, it's about keeping Hayden safe…'_

And yet, as he thought that, he glanced up at the High Table, where all the Professors sat. McGonagall was present, talking with Madam Hooch, Flitwick was squeaking animatedly with Sprout and his mother about something or other, and a few other Professors that he didn't know by name but knew taught the upper-years. Neither Snape nor Quirrell were present, as well as Dumbledore, which was a relief.

Harry wasn't sure whether he had made the right decision regarding his brother's protection anymore – not since Christmas and the week leading up to it. He swilled the contents of his glass around as he stared into it broodingly. He tipped his head back and downed the rest of his juice in one swig, before placing it back on the table and stalking out of the Hall.

He ascended the marble staircase quickly, his mind still buzzing with restlessness. His feet took him automatically to Gryffindor tower, past the portraits and clanking statues of armour, through several hidden doors and tapestries. He muttered the password to the Fat Lady and slipped in before the portrait had even fully swung open.

The common room was occupied by only a few Gryffindors, mostly fourth year and up. They only glanced up briefly at him as he walked past before returning to their business. Harry spared them little thought as he ascended the stairs steadily. At the top of the spiraling staircase, he saw that the door was slightly ajar, and slipped in quietly.

His eyes immediately darted to Ron's tall and lanky form, bent over his trunk and rummaging about as softly as possible. His eyes slid over to the bed next to Ron's, and saw that the curtains were drawn tightly around Hayden's bed. He smiled slightly when he heard the deep breathing from behind the drawn curtains, and moved over to his bed to gather his book bag.

Ron glanced up at him when he walked by, seemingly surprised. "When did you come in?" he asked softly, bewildered.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Just then," he murmured back, tossing into his trunk unnecessary items and piling his Herbology, Defense and Transfiguration homework into his scuffed book bag. He stepped out from behind his hangings to find Ron pinning a note on the bathroom door and raised an eyebrow questioningly at the redhead.

"Just in case Hayden wakes up and wonders where we are," Ron answered to his unspoken question, shouldering his book bag. "So… to the library?"

"'Kay," Harry replied.

They descended the stairs together, engulfed in a slightly awkward silence. Ron seemed to cope well enough with the silence and merely glanced around at their surroundings as they exited the common room. Their footsteps echoed in the long, empty corridors, accompanied by the occasional clank of armour.

"So…" Ron started uncertainly, unable to remain silent any longer. "Good Christmas, eh?"

"It was great," Harry said, his tone of voice level, but Ron noticed the faint smile lingering on the brown-haired boy's lips. He grinned too, remembering the different side of Evan Reeds they had all seen in the week leading up to Christmas.

"What'd you think of the Christmas dinner?"

Harry paused to think slightly, and then shrugged casually, "it was alright."

Ron blinked at him. "'Alright'?" he asked with a slight note of incredulity in his voice. "'Alright'? It was bloody amazing!"

"I suppose," Harry said indifferently.

They fell into silence again, and a few minutes later, not far from the library, Ron picked up conversation again. "So, d'you play Wizard's chess?"

"I know how to play chess," Harry answered calculatingly. He didn't mention the fact that he had been thoroughly trounced by Remus every time they played chess, whether it was Wizard or Muggle.

"Really? Hey, d you want to have a game later?"

Harry blinked. "Well… alright…" Ron grinned at this, "but after lunch."

"Okay," Ron shrugged. "Well, is Muggle chess any different from Wizard's chess?"

"No; it's exactly the same except for the fact that the pieces in a Muggle chess set are inanimate," Harry said.

"Really? So you have to move the pieces across the board by yourself?" Ron asked.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "No, they sprout legs by themselves and just go wherever they want," he rolled his eyes. "Although I hear that you can play chess on a computer now…"

"What? A "ka-pewter"?" Ron frowned.

"No, _computer_," Harry stressed slowly.

"… what's that?"

"It's like a whole library complete with its information all packaged into a machine," Harry answered. They passed through the library doors as Ron tried to comprehend what Harry had just said.

"What? A whole library in one thing? That's impossible!" he spluttered.

"Not for Muggles," Harry shrugged. "Quite ingenious, actually. And there are a lot more things than just information on a computer, and a lot more things you can do with one. Technology is advancing in leaps and bounds, you know," Harry looked at Ron. "Muggles are really quite smart – smarter than most Wizards, even."

"Muggles? Smarter than Wizards? They don't even know that Wizards exist!" Ron exclaimed. Madam Pince glared at them from behind the counter.

Harry sat down at his usual table, placing his book bag on the table top before staring evenly at the redhead. "Two words, Ron: Hermione Granger."

Ron opened his mouth before closing it, understanding what Harry was saying. "Yeah, okay, you have a point there," he muttered. "But still – a _whole library_?" he asked skeptically.

Harry merely shook his head amusedly as he pulled out his Transfiguration homework and his reference book. Ron mumbled words like "unbelievable" and "a _whole_ library" under his breath as he followed suit, retrieving his Potions essay.

They spent the next hour or so working steadily together, keeping a steady stream of conversation running all the while. At first, they fell into a couple of awkward silences before the slight tentativeness and uncomfortable mood vanished and they soon found a common ground to share: Quidditch.

They talked about the game in November, tactics and strategies, teams, brooms, and players, interspersed with information regarding their homework. Ron occasionally (more like every minute) asked Harry for clarification on his essay, and Harry occasionally had to point out some error or other to the redhead. Ron struggled with Potions immensely, often growing frustrated because of his difficulty in understanding the subject.

By the time Ron finished crossing out an error and re-writing a sentence, Harry was checking over his completed Herbology essay, his Transfiguration homework lying beside his inkpot, completed. Harry was frowning, deep in thought, as his brown eyes ticked across the page and back. Ron watched quietly as Harry set down his quill and parchment, sighed in relief and stretched languidly.

"Finished?" Ron asked enviously.

"Obviously," came the dry reply.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Man, you finish your homework fast."

"My Transfiguration essay was already half-done," Harry replied, "but no, I don't work fast. Really slowly, actually," he admitted, rolling up his parchment and packing his equipment away.

At that moment, Ron's stomach gave a particularly loud growl. Harry grinned briefly as Ron flushed a little. "Hungry?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Ron nodded almost forlornly, clutching his stomach. "I hate Potions," he moaned, "It always puts me in a bad mood…"

Harry shrugged as they walked together to the Great Hall. Several students were already inside, and the four House tables were laden down heavily with platters of delicious food. Ron seemed to brighten considerably at the sight and had already begun devouring his first plate by the time Harry had sat down.

Harry chuckled slightly at the sight before pulling a plate towards himself and piling some food onto it.

**XxX**

Hayden blinked tiredly, staring up at the ceiling of the first year dorms as his senses slowly returned. He could feel the dampness of his clothes from his sweat and the uncomfortable sensation of them clinging to his skin. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead and trickled down his face, intermingled with salty tears.

He sniffled softly, unwilling to move an inch as his dream replayed itself over and over in his mind. His twin had dominated his dreams last night, ranging from good to bad to downright awful, and had left his emotions floundering helplessly after every episode. His hazel eyes blurred slightly as he remembered how in one dream, his twin had accused him of being nothing more than a glory-mongering prat and orchestrating his departure.

The happier dreams had mainly consisted of good times he had spent playing or flying with Harry in their younger years. They were few in number compared to his bad dreams, but were certainly the ones that made him the saddest. Those dreams were the ones that made him long for more time, even a minute, with Harry. Even a few seconds would have been enough for him to say the two words he wanted to say the most and hug his twin one last time.

He felt his eyes sting again, and raised a hand to his face to angrily wipe the tears away. He had always imagined and daydreamed about a scene where Harry returned and he could say what he truly wanted to say to his brother, and the worst dreams included Harry taking his words badly and lashing out at him verbally.

He sighed, and, having decided that he had moped long enough in bed for the day, swung his legs over the side of the bed. He ran a hand through his messy auburn hair as he rummaged around for a set of clothes. He found the shirt and jeans he was wearing last night and until early that morning, and soon recovered the jacket that had somehow ended up underneath his four-poster, along with his invisibility cloak.

Looking at the cloak, memories of last night's adventures rushed to mind, first and foremost being the gold-framed mirror he had encountered last night. The words engraved at the top of the mirror, despite being incredibly inane, remained fixed in his memory. _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._ The inscription had been strange enough, but the unfamiliar words were quickly forgotten in light of the image he had seen in the mirror.

He had expected to see just his reflection, and was utterly shocked when he saw not just himself, but also his mum and dad, Sirius, Remus, and Harry; all together, all laughing, all smiling – all happy.

Together.

He had spent an age just staring at the image looking back out at him, completely unaware of time and that his cloak was still half draped over him. He just stood and stared, fixedly, at the mirror's image – at his family, but more importantly, at Harry.

The Harry in the mirror had been smiling so broadly that it seemed as if his face would burst at the seams; his bright green eyes, framed with a pair of spectacles, were sparkling brightly with laughter; he seemed… whole.

He had inched forward slowly, after an eternity of gazing at his brother, step by step. He approached the mirror with an almost tangible air of hesitance and growing anticipation. The cloak was dropped almost carelessly in his advance, nothing on his mind except for the image in the mirror.

His family in the mirror stopped joking around and stared back at him evenly, smilingly, and beckoned him closer with gestures and encouraging expressions. He reached out to the mirror – to Harry – with cold, numb fingers, and met the equally cold, smooth glass of the mirror.

Sadness welled up inside his heart, and threatened to swallow him, before a shining thought struck him.

'_This can be my time alone with Harry.'_

He had sat in front of the mirror all through the night and into the early morning, only leaving when he noticed the brightness outside and with silent promises to his family - to Harry - to return soon.

He stared into the small mirror hanging above the sink, having gone about his morning (or was it the afternoon?) rituals. The hazel eyes that stared back out at him were quite red, and it was completely obvious he had been crying. He splashed his face and rubbed his eyes furiously, hearing the mirror comment, "Homesick, lad? It happens to everyone, although usually not this late…"

"Shut up," he snapped. "I don't need a bloody reflection on my case."

He wiped his face and stormed back out; the slamming of the door didn't manage to completely block out the mirror's next words. "Well, who got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

He rearranged his bed to look, at least partially, neater, and retrieved his glasses from the bedside table. He glanced at his wristwatch and was surprised to find that it was late afternoon already. He tugged on his socks and shoes hurriedly and hasted toward the door, pausing mid-way when he noticed a piece of parchment pinned to the bathroom door.

Pulling it down, he unfolded it and read it quickly, recognising Ron's handwriting.

_- Hayden_ (it read)

_Me and Evan will be in the library until lunch, doing our homework. Feel free to come join us whenever you want!_

_- Ron._

He scratched his head and balled up the note, tossing it into the trash as he exited. He could hear chatter and laughter downstairs as he descended the spiraling steps. When he reached the landing, he found the common room occupied by a few people, including Ron and Evan on the floor by the fireplace. A chess set had been set up between them, the pieces moving about the board magically. The book that Remus had given Evan had been set down beside the brown-haired boy, who was staring intently at the board.

He had barely taken two steps when the Muggleborn boy glanced up sharply, brown eyes meeting hazel quite suddenly. Hayden almost tripped over his own feet at the sheer intensity in the gaze Evan leveled at him, but then the boy smiled slightly and beckoned him over with a tilt of his head.

Hayden crossed the common room quickly and plopped down into an armchair beside his two friends. Ron glanced up, surprised, and smiled widely when he saw who it was. "Hayden! You're finally up! Geez, I thought you'd died…"

"Funny," Hayden remarked in mock-realisation, "I look rather well for a corpse, don't I?"

"You like a Troll that can't find it's club," Evan remarked dryly, moving a pawn forward.

"I beg your pardon?" Hayden asked, pretending to be affronted. "I always look dashing!" he stated proudly. Evan and Ron stared at him before turning back to their game.

"Right…" Evan drawled as he watched Ron make another move. He frowned in concentration and his hand gravitated to his last surviving rook before suddenly moving his knight.

Hayden sighed and deflated, pouting slightly as he rubbed his weary eyes. Evan glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes, having noticed his tiredness. "You okay, Hayden?"

"Just t-tired," he yawned.

"Then go sleep some more," Evan said as he took one of Ron's bishops.

"Can't," Hayden said gloomily, watching the game. "Weird dreams."

"'Kay, then," Evan muttered absently. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, scowling as Ron took the knight that had previously taken his bishop, "You set that up."

"Yup," Ron smiled broadly. "And checkmate."

Evan blinked, staring at the board for a moment before swearing softly under his breath, despite the small smile that lingered on his lips. "Damn it – I'm not playing you again anytime soon. You've killed my pride."

"That wasn't too bad," Hayden consoled, "_My_ pride was butchered."

Ron was grinning widely and blushed under their praise and compliments as they packed up the set. "Hey, why did you sleep in so late today, Hayden?"

"Oh, I couldn't sleep last night," he answered, an odd look coming over his face. "I went out for a bit of a walk."

"Oh, okay. Where'd you go?"

"Eh, here and there," Hayden said nonchalantly, "Bit of exploring."

Harry frowned but remained silent; he could tell that Hayden wasn't exactly telling the whole truth, and seemed a little pre-occupied as they left Gryffindor tower together.

The rest of the day passed well enough, with little oddities except for Hayden's unusual behaviour and the pensive look on his face. Harry watched his brother carefully throughout the day as they ate dinner and retired to the common room to continue with their homework until they were too tired to remain alert.

The next day passed in the same manner as the previous, with Harry waking early to find Hayden's bed empty and cold. Remembering the night before, he had done nothing but grab his book and wait downstairs in the common room. His brother returned in the same manner as the last time; a few hours later and tucking something silvery into his bag.

The confrontation left Harry even more confused and mystified. He had left the subject alone after that, and all throughout the day, as he, Ron and Hayden continued to work diligently at their homework – Hayden had chosen not to sleep, saying that he wasn't sleepy, but Harry could tell that that wasn't the case.

Indeed, all day long, Hayden continued to act oddly and distant, as if trapped in deep thought. As night approached, his twin began acting more jittery, anticipation, nervousness, and longing in his hazel eyes.

As he worked absent-mindedly on his Defense Against the Dark Arts homework, Harry thought out his plan to try and find out where Hayden had been and most likely would go to at night.

Harry retired to their dorm early after finishing his Defense essay, leaving Ron and Hayden to play another round of chess by the fire. A small smile remained on his face as he stripped and tugged on his new night clothes and pulled back his covers to slip in. Unlike most nights, however, he didn't pop out his contacts or cast a Silencing charm around his bed.

Instead, he pulled the covers tightly over him and waited a moment before unlocking his magical sight. Squeezing his eyes shut did little to lessen the sudden glare of magic, and after a few minutes, his eyes grew accustomed to the sudden influx of magic and his vision returned to normal levels.

He waited, motionless, in his position. He tensed slightly upon hearing two sets of footsteps and laughter, before allowing himself to relax and slowly turn onto his side so that he was facing the door and Hayden's and Ron's beds.

The door swung open and two beings entered softly, evidently trying not to wake their 'sleeping' dorm-mate. Harry, with his magical sight, was able to see past the hangings and view two glowing auras of magic creep over to their beds. He could hear the whispered conversation but not its contents, and merely watched the two as they went about changing into their night clothes.

Then they bade each other good night and clambered into their respective beds. The lights dimmed until it was pitch black, but it didn't impair Harry's vision. The two auras remained inert for several long minutes, and the sound of deep snoring soon filled the dorm.

Harry watched Hayden's aura intently, and after moments of complete inactivity, he began thinking that he was wrong in his earlier assumptions that Hayden would once again sneak out for 'a walk'. He closed his eyes tiredly; he felt warm, and comfortable, and everything was still except for…

"Ah, crap."

The whispered curse, barely audible under the deep snores of Ron, reached Harry and he nearly sat bolt upright. His eyes snapped open and he quickly noticed moving aura of Hayden Potter, moving across the room quickly and quietly. Harry remained still and quiet, and as soon as he heard the door closing softly, leapt out of his bed and tugged on his battered trainers quickly, his magical sight seeing Hayden's aura through the walls moving down the stairs.

He followed quickly, maneuvering around several articles of clothing on the floor and casting a Silencing and Disillusionment charm on himself, glad that he hadn't removed his wand from its holster earlier. As an extra precaution, he had left a dagger in its holster around his ankle, and was wearing the jacket that had a hand-sewn sheath stitched into the inside.

He wasn't sure why he had decided to take all his weapons with him, but had a strange feeling in his gut that tonight wasn't going necessarily going to be all that good. With one last check over himself to make sure that he was sufficiently hidden, he crossed the last few steps to the door and exited quietly.

He moved down the spiral staircase with practised ease, and the Silencing charm he had cast on himself masked any sound he would've made walking. In the common room, he saw Hayden's aura – it was relatively muted, much like the time when he, Ron and Hermione had all gone out under the invisibility cloak.

The portrait swung open seemingly by itself, and Harry quickly slipped through the opening before it closed completely, careful not to bump the door or into Hayden. The Fat Lady gave a startled squawk behind them, but neither paid any attention to her beyond a cursory glance.

Hayden seemed to be in a hurry, and was obviously very distracted as he was walking quickly and creating a lot of noise, with his loud footfalls and excited panting. Harry was tempted to smack some sense into his twin even if it meant revealing himself.

But instead, he resigned himself to following quietly and to observe from afar.

Hayden led him through several hallways and corridors, a twisting maze of turns and stairs. The castle was completely silent except for Hayden's footsteps and the occasional clank of armour. Harry had no idea where Hayden was and had been going for the last two nights, but he had a nagging thought that it had to have been fairly serious if it made his twin act oddly for a whole day.

Eventually, the footsteps slowed, and Hayden's aura stopped beside a completely inconspicuous-looking door. Harry frowned in bewilderment as Hayden quickly flung the door open and hurried in, in his haste to reach his goal forgetting to close the door.

Harry hurried in after Hayden, and gently eased the door shut. He turned around, and froze.

Hayden had discarded the cloak; it lay on the ground in shimmering folds. He was standing, stock still, looking absolutely dead to the world if it weren't for the fact that his chest was rising and falling slowly, methodically, and for the tears that slowly trickeld down his pale cheeks.

The sight of his brother wasn't what made Harry freeze, however.

It was the mirror.

The same mirror Harry had seen before Christmas, on the night he had followed Hayden, Ron and Hermione out of Gryffindor tower; tall, imposing, gilded with gold and standing on two clawed feet. The inscription that read _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_ once again caught his eye, and remembering the image he had seen in the mirror last time, his anger flared again.

He started forward, displeasure evident on his face, and strode toward Hayden with every intention of grabbing him and demanding what he cared so damn much about the blasted mirror when he saw his brother's face of absolute misery and joy.

Harry stopped in mid-stride, staring at his twin, a frown on his Disillusioned face. His brother's face clearly shouted that what he was seeing in the mirror was both a curse and a blessing for him, and that any attempts to drag him away forcefully would end with bad results. He realised he wouldn't have the heart to do that to his brother anyway, much to his irritation, which he quickly found he was unable to retain, especially not with his brother looking as though his heart was being torn out.

So instead, Harry sighed (although the Silencing charm took away any sound that he may have made) and went to sit down in a dark corner of the room, where he continued to watch Hayden unobtrusively.

Hours passed by in a haze. Harry resigned himself to observing his brother as Hayden remained in front of the mirror, his eyes fastened almost hungrily on the reflective glass. Harry let his mind wonder what exactly was fascinating his twin so much and halfheartedly theorised on what it might be.

At one point during the night/morning, Hayden had sunken to the ground to sit cross-legged on the cold floor. There was an absolute stillness in the air, and absolutely no noise at all, which disconcerted Harry slightly. Hayden didn't move or speak at all, merely continued to stare transfixed at the mirror until several hours later.

"Harry…"

Harry jumped, startled. Had Hayden realised his presence and finally seen through his disguise? Before his shock could even disappear, Hayden spoke again, and it was apparent that he was not paying any attention at all to anything but the mirror.

"Harry… I'm so sorry. You're probably angry at me, for having a good life while you just waste away in an orphanage – while you wasted away and died. If only things had turned out a little differently – if only I had just demanded that mum and dad not send you away… if Dumbledore hadn't sent you away…"

Harry watched Hayden with wide eyes. His brother wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper, trembling visibly. After a moment, the auburn-haired eleven-year-old looked up again, with anguished eyes, staring at – into the mirror intently.

"I hate him so much right now, Harry. You probably wouldn't – you're so good-natured; you'd probably give him the cold shoulder for a couple of years before getting over it." Hayden chuckled mirthlessly. "Look at me; sulking away alone, with a mirror and your image with our family for company. Pathetic," he sighed.

"I miss you so much… I always used to take your presence for granted, and was too caught up in the fame and glory of being the Boy-Who-Lived to even pay to you the attention you deserve so much. If I could go back in time – if this was just a dream, and I wake up to find you sticking socks to my ceiling, I will never, ever let you out of my sight.

"… I have been… a horrible brother. I'm glad you were my twin, but I'm also angry that you had such a terrible twin – a terrible half. Now you're gone, and I'm just one half of a whole."

Hayden's shoulders began shaking in barely repressed emotion. "You were such a good brother… and now you're dead, and I'm learning my lesson and paying the price. I deserve it; if I'm ever given a second chance, whether it's another sibling or me waking up from a horrible nightmare, I'm going to be the best brother I can be. I promise you, Harry, I will be a better brother."

"I'm… sorry," Hayden choked out, sniffling. "I just want you… back… with everyone. I'm so sorry," he whispered, tears streaming down his face. "I can't stand this…"

Harry had remained motionless the whole time; listening as Hayden poured out his heart and soul… he looked down miserably at the ground as Hayden trailed off, unable to continue speaking. He didn't look up for a long while, and only did so when he realised that the room had descended into silence again.

He looked up sharply, and relaxed when he saw that Hayden had slumped against the mirror, dwarfed by the size and utter grandness of the ornate object, and had apparently passed out. Harry sighed, and, canceling his Disillusionment and Silencing charms as he did so, treaded softly across the room to his brother's sleeping form.

"You'll catch a cold in this state," he whispered, draping the invisibility cloak over Hayden. "And I'll be damned if I let my other half fall sick when I could have done something about it."

He bent, grabbed Hayden around the arms and heaved, grunting softly with the effort. He hoisted his brother upright and over his shoulder carefully. "I miss you too. And I'm sorry I have to cause everyone so much pain and suffering when all I have to do to end is to just tell you who I am."

Harry turned to leave. At the door, he paused to look back at the mirror and smiled wistfully when he saw the image he had seen before Christmas; himself, laughing and playing with his family. He heard Hayden whimper softly in his sleep and turned back around.

"I'm still alive and I won't die without saying goodbye."

**XxX**

Neville Longbottom smiled happily when the train slowed at last and the conductor finally announced their arrival. Seamus and Dean stood up opposite him, tossing down the pack of cards between them to stretch and yawn widely.

"Oh man, that was the longest train ride I have ever been on," Dean moaned, rubbing his back gingerly.

"It went for the same length as the train ride last September!" Seamus exclaimed incredulously.

"That was different! We were going to Hogwarts for the first time then!" Dean argued.

Neville chuckled nervously, "I don't understand how you guys can fight so often and still be friends."

"Well, I think it's more that we're friends because we fight so often," Dean ventured after sharing a glance with Seamus. "Speaking of friends, we don't understand your friendship with Evan – he hardly speaks at all, how do you communicate?"

"Sign language?" Seamus suggested with a grin.

"Or maybe you two have a deep mental bond that is so far unexplored and you two communicate through mind-speech," Dean laughed.

The Hogwarts Express came to a complete halt, and Neville – closest to the door – moved to open it, chuckling at Seamus' and Dean's far-fetched suggestions. "Actually, he does speak, just not so much. Most of the time I just figure out what he's saying by looking at his face…"

"Oh, you mean like that eyebrow thing?" Dean asked. "The one that makes you feel like a complete and utter idiot?"

"Oh, man, that is one helluva creepy look," Seamus muttered, shaking his head. "He's smart, though – really smart."

"Maybe he's one of those super-high IQ people that are super geniuses but don't speak much," Dean laughed. He bumped into someone as he was jostled along in the throng of students. "Agh! Help! Oof! Oh, sorry Hermione! Didn't see you there!"

"It's alright, Dean," the bushy-haired girl said as she twisted her head to see who it was. "Hi Seamus, hello Neville."

"Hey," Seamus greeted.

Neville didn't respond, being too busy keeping a hold on a struggling Trevor and keeping balance at the same time that he could only manage a noise halfway between a grunt and a yelp. He stumbled, and Seamus caught him by the arm. "Thanks," Neville gasped, still clutching Trevor tightly.

When at last they exited the train and spilled onto the platform gratefully, the four Gryffindors convened under a street light, grinning at each other happily.

"How was your Christmas, Hermione?" Neville asked.

"It was great! Mum and Dad were so pleased, and it was interesting to see what it would be like to live as a Muggle again after spending four months as a witch," Hermione spoke rapidly and excitedly. "Oh! Did you all finish your homework?"

Seamus, Dean and Neville all glanced at each other. "Umm, yeah, sort of…" Dean mumbled.

Hermione frowned at them before turning to Neville. "Please tell me you didn't leave it until last night."

"Actually, I finished it the night before last night," Neville grinned sheepishly. "Mum was in a right state when she saw I still hadn't done my homework by the last week of the holidays."

"Hurry up, now, the carriages are waitin'," called a familiar voice. Over the heads of other students, they could see Hagrid's towering bulk, a lantern in one hand.

"Hagrid!" Hermione waved happily.

"All righ' there, Hermione?" Hagrid waved back.

"C'mon, let's go get a carriage," Seamus chattered, wrapping his scarf around his neck tighter.

They found an empty carriage and clambered in, soon joined by the Patil twins and Lavender Brown. Hermione immediately found herself in fast conversation with the newcomers while Seamus, Dean and Neville merely sat and looked at the girls and back at each other awkwardly.

"Looking forward to classes?" Dean spoke just to break up the awkward silence.

"I suppose," Seamus nodded.

Neville sneezed. Trevor croaked loudly in complaint.

The ride up to the castle in the carriages was uneventful and cold, and soon the students were piling into the Entrance Hall and the warmth it brought with it gratefully. Neville sighed in relief as Trevor finally ceased struggling and loosened his scarf with one hand. "Feels good to be back," he sighed happily.

At that moment, Trevor gave a particularly loud croak and leapt out of Neville's loosened grip. "Ah no! Trevor!" Neville cried, alarmed. He lunged forward and dived for his toad, missed, and flung a hand over his head as he skidded under startled feet amidst yells and yelps. He opened his eyes briefly and they widened hugely when he saw the suit of armour he was about to crash into in just one second…

The impact he had braced himself for never came, as a hand grabbed the back of his collar and held on firmly, so that he came to an abrupt halt. He glanced up to find the feet of the armour barely an inch away from his nose and sighed in relief.

"Thanks," he said gratefully, and glanced to find none other than Evan Reeds. "Evan!"

Neville scrambled to his feet hastily, blushing slightly as other students laughed at him. "Thanks for that, Evan," he said. He half expected the brown-haired boy to stare unnervingly at him with that raised eyebrow or just shrug and grunt, and was suitably surprised when Evan smiled at him.

"No problem. Be careful next time," the Muggleborn spoke softly, but nevertheless there was a warm quality in his voice. "Oh yeah, you might want to keep a firmer grip on this lil' guy here," he added, placing a sullen Trevor back in his hands.

Neville stared at the retreating back of Evan Reeds, a look of surprise still on his face. Evan paused and looked back at him, a slight frown on his face. "Coming, Neville?"

Neville shook his head and hurried after Evan, Trevor held firmly in his hands.

It was good to be back at Hogwarts, Neville mused later as he chatted happily with everyone at Gryffindor table, spooning ample amounts of mashed potato and gravy onto his plate. He shot a couple of discreet glances at Evan all through dinner, and noticed that the boy looked much happier; his face didn't seem as though locked in a permanent state of unhappiness, the shadows under his eyes didn't look so prominent anymore, and his eyes flashed with emotions like amusement and even joy. Neville couldn't help but smile; whatever had made Evan so happy was a mystery to him, but he couldn't deny that he felt happy for his friend.

Evan still didn't add much input to conversations at the table, but he certainly spoke a lot more than before Christmas. Neville could tell that he wasn't the only person to realise and be surprised by this.

He glanced down the table at Hayden, Hermione and Ron as he dug into his pudding. The three were obviously discussing something private, and caught a few words such as "could have been caught", "lost points" from Hermione as well as a few whispered arguments from Hayden while Ron frowned as he listened to his two friends' argument. Soon, he caught what sounded like "Nicholas Flamel", and was brought back to reality by a tap on his head.

He glanced up sharply to find Evan looking at him in confusion, a spoon in one hand. "You alright, Neville?"

"Yeah, sure," he assured the other boy. "Hey, could you look over my Potions essay after?"

Evan shrugged. "Sure," he grinned, "could you help look over my Herbology essay?"

Neville grinned widely. "Of course! I finished that ages ago, then I re-wrote it because I found more information on Devil's Snare," he gabbled on excitedly.

Harry hurriedly held up a hand and Neville fell silent, a sheepish look on his face. "Okay, okay, that's okay Neville – I bow down to your expertise in Herbology."

Neville looked briefly surprised by his joking manner, but then flushed; pleased with the praise he received. "Thanks, Evan," he grinned.

"No worries. Hey, could you pass the treacle tart?"

**XxX**

"Ron, that's my foot you're stepping on!"

"Well, _sorry_, but we're kinda invisible right now so you can't blame me for not being able to see your feet let alone my own nose!"

"_Would you two be quiet_?"

"It's not me, it's Hermione!"

"Oh, grow up Ron, and stop slapping your feet on the ground; everyone will have heard us by now!"

"_Shut up!_ We're almost there," Hayden hissed.

Silence befell the empty corridor once again, as three invisible students crept along carefully. Unknown to them, a fourth student was tailing them closely, using his magical sight to follow their auras.

'_Although I could follow them pretty well just by listening to them argue,'_ Harry thought wryly. Up ahead, he could occasionally catch the sound of rustling clothes and whispered arguments.

"This is a bad idea," Hermione whispered angrily. "It's the night before classes, and you want to sneak out just to see this mirror?"

"It's alright, I know the way like the back of my hand," Hayden assured her absently.

"_What_? Are you telling me you've been doing this every night?"

"Since just after Christmas," Hayden answered, unaware of the growing ire of his bushy-haired friend.

"Hayden! What were you thinking? You could have been caught by Filch, and expelled!"

"This is important!" Hayden argued hotly.

There was a moment of tense silence. "Please tell me you at least tried to search for Nicholas Flamel," Hermione pleaded.

"We went through that list of yours, but couldn't find him," Ron answered. "I still get the feeling that I've read his name somewhere…"

'_Nicholas Flamel?'_ Harry frowned. _'What the hell does this guy have to do with anything?'_

"Shhh!" Hayden warned. "I can hear footsteps!"

With his magical sight, Harry saw the three muted auras shuffle to the side and into the shadow of a suit of armour. They huddled closely together, and at the same moment, Harry saw two new auras at the end of the hallway, walking quickly. He had no doubt that his Disillusionment and Silencing charms would hide him sufficiently, but nonetheless hurried to crouch down behind another suit of armour.

"I could swear I just heard voices," said a distinct male voice. "Just here…"

'_Oh, wonderful,'_ Harry thought, groaning inwardly. _'Just perfect.'_

Percy Weasley, chest puffed out and prefect badge pinned to the front of his robes, stalked onto the scene, peering around suspiciously. "Penelope, did you hear anything?"

The Ravenclaw prefect with long, curly hair shook her head. "It's probably nothing, Percy."

"I could swear it sounded just like…" the third eldest Weasley frowned in confusion and trailed off.

"Never mind it, Percy. It was probably Peeves playing another joke."

"Yeah… yeah, you're right," Percy decided, but still looked suspicious.

The two prefects strolled down the corridor and disappeared around the corner. Harry released the breath he had been holding, and suddenly realised that his hand was gripping the hilt of his dagger concealed inside his jacket. He released it immediately, shaking his head, and followed after Hayden, Ron and Hermione.

All too soon, Hayden had pushed open the now-familiar door and entered hurriedly, excitement and anticipation clearly read on his face. "C'mon, hurry up you two!" he beckoned, darting out from under the cloak and racing inside.

"Hayden! Wait!" Hermione hissed, following hastily.

Ron hurried in after them both, closing the door behind him. Before it shut fully, Harry ducked in under Ron's arm, accidentally brushing the red-haired boy's dressing-gown. He ducked into a corner and held his breath, watching as Ron paused to look around with a frown. After a tense few seconds, the redhead shrugged and pulled the door all the way shut.

Ron hurried to stand beside the other two, stopping to stare in awe at the towering mirror. "Whoa…"

"Look into the mirror," Hayden urged. "What can you see?"

"… just us," Hermione ventured cautiously. "Why?"

Hayden groaned and pulled Hermione aside, so that Ron was standing alone in front of the mirror. "Ron, stand there; what can you see?"

Ron stared into the mirror intently, then his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open slightly. "I… can see myself…" he said. "I'm older; I'm holding the Quidditch cup! And – and the House cup! I'm head boy, and Quidditch captain too!"

"_What_?"

"I am! I'm wearing Bill's old badge, and Charlie's as well! Hey," Ron turned to them excitedly, "d'you think this mirror shows the future?"

Hayden shrugged. "I dunno," he murmured. "I hope so…"

Hermione had moved to stand in front of the mirror, and was staring, gobsmacked, at the glass.

"Hermione? What do you see?"

The bushy-haired girl blushed and shook her head. "Umm, nothing, nothing!"

"Okay, then, lemme have another look!" Ron hurried to stand in front of the mirror again, but was beaten to it by Hayden. "Oi!"

"You've already had your turn, it's mine now!"

"You've had it for the last three nights, give me a bit more time."

"You're only holding the Quidditch cup, what's so interesting about that? I want to see –"

"If you don't shut up, everyone in the castle will wake up," Harry interjected softly, cancelling his Disillusionment and Silencing charms as he did so.

All three whipped around, wide-eyed, and sighed noticeably in relief when they saw who it was. "Evan, mate – don't do that again."

"Thought you were a Professor for a second," Ron smiled nervously. "We didn't hear you at all."

"Of course you couldn't, you were too wrapped up in your argument," Harry rolled his eyes. The three glanced at each other sheepishly. "Geez, what's so interesting about a mirror anyway?"

"It's not like we're vain, or anything," Hayden said. "It's just…" he glanced at the other two helplessly before sighing and bounding forward to grab the brown-haired boy by the arm. "Here, stand in front of the mirror. What do you see?"

Harry, standing motionless, stared into the mirror stonily. His jaw tightened imperceptibly, and his eyes narrowed a fraction. He didn't respond to Hayden's question as he stared at the image reflected back at him; himself, with his whole family.

"Evan?" Hayden asked tentatively. "… what do you see?"

"I… nothing," he declared with a note of finality in his voice. "Nothing."

It was a lie; he could tell that the other three obviously didn't believe him for a second, but had the tact not to press him any further. "Okay."

Harry wheeled around abruptly and strode toward the door. "You shouldn't come here anymore, Hayden," he said, pausing by the door. "It'll lead you astray, and eventually destroy you."

Hayden frowned angrily. "What are you talking about –"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Harry's voice drowned out Hayden's, filling the room. "This mirror is a damn fake; a copy, a mere image of what you once had and what you want! It will tempt you with false hope, and lure you deeper into dreams filled with desire," Harry growled almost viciously.

Hermione and Ron had backed up; intimidated by the anger the normally quiet boy was exuding. Hayden didn't seem at all fazed, and was meeting Harry's angry words with his own.

"You have no damn idea what you're talking about, Evan! I'll do whatever I want, and you can't stop me! Nothing will stop from being with my brother!"

Hermione gasped; Ron stared open-mouthed at Hayden. Hayden rarely spoke about his twin, and they were never sure what to say whenever he brought the topic up. Harry, on the other hand, had plenty to say.

"That is not your brother!" he all but yelled, eyes flashing angrily. "That is a copy; it's not real!"

"I'll make it real!" Hayden shouted. "I don't care what anyone thinks; nothing will stop me from coming back here every night! Nothing will stop me from staying here for the rest of my life; not Ron, not Hermione, not my parents, not Dumbledore, not you –"

In a second, Harry had crossed the distance between them and grabbed Hayden by the collar of his shirt. He pushed forward until his brother was backed up against the wall and trapped. He leaned in, shaking with anger.

"Listen to me, you pea-brained, idiotic, stupid imbecile. What you see in that mirror will never match up to the real thing. It – is – fake," he stressed. "You will waste away in front of that mirror, your mind filled with wild dreams that are not likely to happen in a millennium. If I can't force you to see sense, then I will drag you out by your hair if I have to. I will not let you waste your life on dreams and worthless replicas made by mirrors!"

"I'll make it real!" Hayden howled defiantly, struggling against Harry's grip. "I – will –make it REAL! I'll bloody find Harry and we'll all be together again! I'll find him! I'LL FIND HIM!"

"IDIOT!" Harry snarled. "You couldn't possibly find your brother, let alone water if you fell out of a boat!"

"AND WHY NOT?" Hayden yelled. "You hardly know Harry; you don't know him at all! He was my brother! MY BROTHER! Not yours! You don't have a family; they're probably what you see in the mirror as well!"

"Don't you _dare_ say that to my face," Harry growled. "You – you… you have no idea – no idea… at all…"

He trailed off, and turned his head away, trembling in rage. He let go of Hayden's shirt suddenly and stepped away, standing stiffly. He walked slowly to the door, and paused when he was halfway there, beside one of the many desks, but didn't turn around. "Please don't ever come back here again."

"I'll do whatever I want, Evan," Hayden spat. "It's not your business; it's mine and Harry's."

"THAT IS NOT HARRY!" Harry bellowed, beyond furious. "THAT IS A MERE COPY OF WHAT YOU REMEMBER OF YOUR BROTHER! AND YOU WOULDN'T EVEN KNOW HIM AS HE IS TODAY!"

"HOW WOULD YOU BLOODY KNOW?" Hayden shouted, incensed.

"BECAUSE I'M HARRY!"

There was silence. Harry immediately regretted what he'd said; he cursed himself for his lack of control. He looked up, breathing heavily. Ron and Hermione were staring at him, open-mouthed; it was obvious Ron had been biting his lip, as there was blood on his lower lip, and Hermione's eyes were red and her face tear-stained.

Hayden…

Hayden was staring at him, something akin to shock settling into his eyes. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly, and his legs were shaking visibly. Their eyes met, and the moment was suspended in time.

"You… you're… Harry?" Hayden spoke weakly, taking a shaky step forward.

In response, Harry lowered his head and let his hair revert to its original state; messy, long and black, and proceeded to pop out his contacts. He looked back up, and for the first time in three years, the two twins came face to face with their other halves. Hayden gasped softly, and sank to his knees, staring at Harry with wide, unbelieving and hopeful eyes.

"Harry… please tell me you're Harry… please…"

Harry turned away, unable to look at his brother at all. He glared at his feet, hands clenched by his sides. He felt overwhelmed by the sudden change in events, and it unnerved him that he suddenly wished that it had never happened.

'_I'm not ready for this; I'm not ready to face my family as who I am,'_ he realised. _'I don't want this yet… I don't want it… I want to be with them, but … not… now…'_

He inhaled sharply and tensed up; he could feel his magic shuddering, streaming through his body at an unbelievably fast rate. It pooled together and quickly built up to an irrepressible amount. Suddenly, it burst out of him in streams of magical energy, through the pores of his skin and radiated to every corner of the room.

He could imagine what it would look like if he had not switched from magical sight to normal sight; extremely blinding, and he could just feel the magic throbbing and pulsating within the room. It bounced everywhere, searching for an outlet, and when it couldn't find one, it settled, stilled, and eventually dissipated.

Harry opened his eyes to find himself slumped against a desk. The simple action of opening his eyes seemed to tire him out considerably, and he knew once again that he had drained his magical reserves to dangerously low levels. He struggled to raise his head, and saw what he expected to see.

Hayden was slumped over on the ground, unconscious, as were Ron and Hermione. He sighed in relief; none of them were hurt beyond a few bruises. Except maybe emotionally…

Hayden knew; he knew that Evan Reeds was in actuality his twin brother in disguise. His family would soon know. His mum and dad, Sirius and Remus would know. He let his head fall back against the table leg, feeling exhaustion fast overtake his senses. The door creaked open quietly but he didn't notice, nor would he have been able to do anything.

'_Everyone… will… know…'_

* * *

Author's Note: Hello people! Yes, a reason to celebrate: a (relatively) quick update! Hooray! Anyway, I hope this chapter is satisfactory for two weeks' wait. I actually found this chapter easier to write than the previous one (hehe… that one took two months…) and please let me know if you spot anything wrong!

Toodles!

P.S. By the way, that little slip up a few chapters back where Lily calls Harry by his real name instead of Evan was actually a mistake on my part, but then I decided to use it as another part of the plot, as you found out in the previous chapter.

P.P.S. Thank you to all those that have been reviewing and please continue to do so! It makes me smile and happy to know that others are enjoying reading a product of my demented imagination.

**Edited: 15th December, 2008**


	8. 7: The Bitter Aftermath

**The Jaded Brothers: Trials of Magic**

By Blueberry Blaster

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. Any and all infringement is unintended.

* * *

**Chapter VII: The Bitter Aftermath**

"_Please don't ever come back here again…"_

"… _It's not your business; it's mine and Harry's…"_

"_THAT IS__ NOT HARRY!"_

"_Don't you _dare_…"_

"_I'll do whatever I want…"_

"_IDIOT! You couldn't possibly find your brother…"_

"… _and why not?"_

"_BECAUSE I'M HARRY!"_

The last three words echoed in his mind as he shot up into a semi-sitting position, breathing hard and sweating profusely. Immediately, his stomach lurched in protest against the sudden movement and he clapped a hand over his mouth instinctively. His eyes were clenched shut as he fought to keep what little contents he had in his stomach from spewing forth from his mouth.

Eventually, his stomach settled down to a more manageable level, and he let his hand fall to his side. Hayden opened his eyes tentatively, winced as blinding light struck his face, and turned his head away.

At that moment, he saw that he was lying not in his four-poster as he had expected, but on a soft leather couch in a completely unfamiliar office. His gut twisted as he moved quickly to assess his unfamiliar surroundings.

He was still within the walls of Hogwarts, which eased his apprehension somewhat, in a large and airy office with a high ceiling, brightly lit, and warm and inviting. The stone walls were adorned with dozens of portraits, the occupants of which were dozing (quite loudly, in some frames), large bookcases filled with thick, dusty tomes (_'Hermione would kill to get her hands on some of these...'_) and other objects of magical orientation that even he didn't know about.

There was a large desk cluttered with rolls of parchment and scrolls, although it still managed to somehow radiate an air of majesty… or something similar. Behind the desk were some more shelves that housed many other unfamiliar objects, silver and shiny, grey and mysterious.

A few steps off beside the large mahogany desk, there proudly stood a gold, handsomely-crafted perch for a large bird of some kind. _'An eagle owl, maybe? But which professor at Hogwarts even has an eagle owl?'_

Unbidden, an image of the vertically-challenged Professor Flitwick trying to appease a ferocious, haughty-looking eagle owl entered Hayden's fogged mind. He smiled despite his current situation, and a few weak chuckles escaped his mouth.

"Well, my dear boy, I am glad to see you up and about. Might I ask as to what you find so amusing?"

Hayden whirled around, instantly recognising the voice before he had even seen the speaker. "Professor Dumbledore!"

Dumbledore smiled benignly at him in return. "Good morning, Hayden. You're looking quite fine today; I was rather concerned last night, considering your pale visage and all. But, I suppose it should be an expected reaction from you due to last night's events." Dumbledore chuckled. "I believe you've had quite an adventure."

Hayden inhaled sharply, hazel eyes wide. "S-sir! Harry – it's Harry, he's alive, sir, he was here – last night, he's… Harry's been disguised as Evan, he's been at Hogwarts this whole time -!"

Dumbledore held up a hand, stemming the flood of words pouring out of Hayden's mouth. "Calm yourself, m'boy, there's no need to panic."

"But – but – but Harry's -!"

"I have been aware of Mr. Potter's presence at Hogwarts since September," Dumbledore interrupted patiently, "And I am aware that he has been under the guise of Evan Reeds."

An almost tangible silence followed as Hayden's mouth dropped.

"Huh? What?" Hayden gaped at him in slight shock. "Y-you mean… you knew? You knew he was alive all along? And – and that he'd been avoiding us? And you – you…" Hayden's slim shoulders trembled. "… you didn't tell us?" he looked up from his lap, his hazel eyes glaring darkly into saddened eyes. "You… after taking Harry away… after putting him through that orphanage, and the fire… after condemning him to a life alone… after all those years… all those years I spent – _we_ spent – thinking of his absence, of the emptiness he left behind… how… how could…"

"Hayden, m'boy," Dumbledore spoke in a soft, placating manner, seeing the red-haired boy's hands clench tightly into fists. "I cannot tell you how sor –"

"HOW DARE YOU?"

The bellow from the usually polite, friendly boy took Dumbledore by surprise. He stepped back out of reflex, alarm flashing briefly in his blue eyes.

"HOW DARE YOU? After all that BULL you spout at us, after all your so-called morals – you tear us apart and ALL YOU CAN SAY IS '_SORRY_'? What a load of ABSOLUTE _**BULLSH **_-!"

"Hayden! Please watch your langua –!"

"And you still have the GALL to lecture me about language when _you_ were the one that bloody imposed yourself as the decision-maker and sent Harry away! Do you have _any_ idea at all what _we_ went through? Do you know what _Harry_ went through? I bet no-one does, and that's all because of you!"

"But he is alive, as you saw with your own eyes."

"Alive, yes – but is he whole?"

Dumbledore jerked slightly, taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"

Hayden, trembling slightly with restrained anger, fisted his hands as he dragged in a breath. "Is he – after all these years… after almost three years living by himself… without us… are you sure that he's walked away from it all undamaged?"

Dumbledore hesitated for the barest of seconds. "I cannot say."

Hayden bristled. "Can't say -!"

"But I _can_ say that what ordeals and trials Harry may have faced in those two and a half years not with you and your family have shaped him into what he is today. Of that I am sure."

There was a ringing echo as one of the silvery orbs on Dumbledore's desk was flung into the wall. The portraits on either side of the area of impact shied away from the glass shards, crying out indignantly. None of the other portraits pretended to be asleep anymore, choosing to shake their fists at Hayden – all this was ignored.

"SHUT UP! STOP TRYING TO SELL YOUR TWISTED IDEALS TO ME, YOU SENILE OLD MAN! I DON'T GIVE A _DAMN_ ANYMORE!"

"Hayden, please –" his plea was drowned out by the shattering of another gadget.

"I SAID _SHUT UP_! What you just told me is true – Harry is who he is _now_ because of what happened to him. But that does _not_ mean that what happened to him was good – in fact, I'd rather say it's done him _anything_ but good. And you – so bloody assured of yourself – how can you just sit here all day… and presume… HOW DO KNOW THAT WHAT HARRY IS TODAY IS ANY GOOD?"

Silence reigned. Even the numerous portraits were surprisingly still, gazing out at the office attentively. Dumbledore stared impassively at Hayden, who was breathing heavily and shaking with rage.

Then abruptly, Hayden inhaled, straightened, spun on his heel and headed for the door. He crossed the short distance in a few angry strides, obstinately fixing his glare on the elaborately furnished door handle. The contact of the cool metal in his tight grip seemed distant and vague. A soft call stilled him momentarily.

"Hayden," Dumbledore paused, struggling to convey everything in the almost tangible silence. "… I'm… sorry."

Hayden remained staring fixedly at the fine grain of the door, his jaw clenched. "… you know how you used to come visit all the time? Remember how you used to preach to me the importance of love and how I needed to be loving?" He pushed the door opened but turned to gaze back at sorrowful blue eyes with hard hazel. "Congratulations. You've just undone all your hard work by taking away one of the people I love the most. Now…" his voice dropped. "…_ I really hate you_."

And then he was gone. The door clicked shut softly in the wake of his anger, but it left the Headmaster feeling worse than if he had slammed it shut. He sat back down heavily in his chair, staring unseeingly at the shattered pieces of his trinkets. He couldn't lift himself out of his reverie to fix them, despite their importance to him.

Things had definitely gone downhill.

Worse, he knew that it wasn't about to get better.

**XxX**

Hayden paid no heed to the few stares and whispers that followed him as he stormed down the path to Gryffindor tower. He wasn't aware of time passing or of the fact that he was extremely late for his first lesson, nor did he care.

A group of fifth years were leaving the tower, which was fortunate, as Hayden had neither the password nor the patience to grant the Fat Lady a reprieve. He would have blasted his way in, and it must have shown in his face because the O.W.L. students took one glance at him before scurrying out of his way.

Inside the first year boys' dormitory, his eyes conveniently slid past Evan's (_Harrry's_) bed, and he avidly ignored it as he retrieved his bag and stationery, not even bothering to check if he had gathered the correct books. As he straightened, his eyes alighted upon a silvery mantle, and with a clenched jaw, scooped it back into his trunk hurriedly. He turned and left, still averting his eyes from Harry's bed.

Outside of Gryffindor tower, he somehow ended up in the right corridor, but as he stared blankly at the many doors – behind one of which lurked his Transfiguration lesson – a bell sounded through the hallways, signalling the end of the first lesson. A crowd of students suddenly filled the vast hallway, brushing past Hayden as they headed for their next lesson. He was jostled from all sides, yet was only vaguely aware of the loud chatter and the din of shuffling feet on the marble floor.

'_Harry might be in this crowd.'_

The thought kicked his mind into action, his eyes instantly sweeping over the surge of students. The redhead found himself cursing the vast enormity of Hogwart's population, and as the seconds flew by, the crowd seemed to swell. The older students cut a swathe through the throng of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw first years, their confident forms intimidating the eleven year olds.

'_Damn… damn it, when is my growth spurt going to hit?'_

Impatiently, Hayden allowed himself to be swept up along the tide of his fellow classmates, ignoring their greetings and queries. He backed up against the stone wall, his intense, searching gaze still flickering over the crowd.

'_Where… black hair, green eyes – wait, no! He's probably under a glamour, so… brown hair, brown hair, short brown hair…damn it! Why does brown hair have to be a popular hair colour?'_

And then a familiar shy voice caught his attention – in particular, the person the voice was directed at caught his attention.

"You sure you're okay, Evan? You look absolutely buggered. Like my aunt's latest pudding creation."

Hayden's head snapped around with an audible crack; the closest heads to him turned as well, gazing at him in bemusement. Their stares were ignored, however, as the redhead was frantically searching for _him_…

At last, at long last, his hazel eyes fell upon a particular head of short brown hair. The head was currently inclined slightly towards Neville, no doubt replying quietly to his friend's query. Hayden hurried forward, his breath caught in his chest and the sound of his heart thumping erratically resounding in his ears.

There was a large expanse of people between him and Harry/Evan, however. Growling under his breath in frustration, Hayden gave up trying to slip past Mandy Brocklehurst's elbow without knocking the stack of Transfiguration books out of her hands, and opened his mouth. "Ha –"

"Hayden!" a hand grasped his shoulder tightly, causing him to spin around, ready to snap the offending person's head off. He paused only when he saw that it was Ron, staring at him with a freckled face full of worry. Behind him, Hermione hovered and fidgeted anxiously, her eyes watching him nervously but always averted whenever he tried to catch her gaze.

The redhead suddenly remembered who he was searching for and whipped back around, eyes scanning the steadily emptying corridor. However, he caught no sight of a pair of brown heads, and scowled in angry disappointment.

"Hayden! Hayden, mate – what's wrong? Where were you? You weren't in your bed, and we checked the Hospital Wing but Pomfrey said she hadn't seen you at all."

"I…" Hayden clammed up, shaking his head resolutely. He spun away from his friends, gathering his courage for their next lesson – during which he would undoubtedly see Harry.

Ron and Hermione exchanged uneasy glances behind him, then hurried after his retreating back. They tactfully complied with his unspoken request for silence, allowing him a reprieve to think of what he was going to say to Harry.

They ducked into their Charms classroom just as another bell sounded to signal the end of first break and the beginning of their next lesson. Flitwick tutted at them good-naturedly, and began the lesson as he swished his wand to close the door behind them.

The three friends quickly grabbed seats near the back, much to Hermione's chagrin, and settled down as Flitwick began lecturing them on their next spell. Hayden paid little attention to the Professor, however, instead choosing to sweep his eyes over his classmates. He soon spotted Harry sitting beside Neville several seats in front of them, apparently unaware of the trio's sudden entrance. Hoping to possibly hold a whispered conversation with his twin, or at least pass notes to each other, the redhead pulled himself out of his reverie at Hermione's silent insistence.

As it turned out, Hayden didn't get a chance to exchange anything between him and Harry at all, as tempted as he was at times to just get out of his seat and drag his brother out of the classroom. The usual organised chaos of a practical Charms lesson made it near-impossible to communicate with people more than a metre away with less than a shout.

Hermione and Ron didn't help matters at all, either. Sitting on either side of him, they constantly exchanged secretive, concerned glances over his head, and taking turns in keeping him preoccupied with the lesson. He had an inkling that they were trying to keep his mind off Harry, for which he was both grateful and irritated.

By the time lunch break rolled around, Hayden was at his wit's end. He pushed away from the desk as soon as the bell sounded and gathered his stuff hastily, not even lifting his penetrating gaze from Harry. The object of his attention was deliberately slow in packing away his books, and holding a casual conversation with Neville as he did so. The red-haired boy stood waiting impatiently, and just as Harry and Neville were stepping away from their desks, two pairs of hands grabbed him by the arms. By the time he regained his bearings, his friends were guiding him forcefully out of the classroom.

"Hey, wait -!"

Hermione shushed him impatiently. She and Ron said nothing at all as they walked speedily away to the Great Hall. As they were turning a corner, Hayden twisted around whilst keeping up with his captors' pace and caught a fleeting glimpse of Harry coming out of the classroom, still disguised as Evan Reeds.

'_Damn it all!'_

**XxX**

Hayden flung himself onto the bench irritably, letting his bag drop under the table and obstinately ignoring Ron and Hermione. He filled his plate with whatever was in reach, and jabbed at his food with more vehemence than necessary. Tentatively, his two friends seated themselves opposite him, their stares burning holes into his lowered head.

Eventually, he couldn't ignore them any longer and glared up at them. "_What_?"

"Well," Hermione began, swallowing nervously. "Ron and I –" Ron sent her an alarmed look, "Oh fine, _I_ think that… I think that you're over-reacting to this!" The bushy-haired girl inhaled deeply and busied herself with pouring pumpkin juice into her glass, averting her eyes from Hayden.

Hayden continued to stare at them coolly, not allowing them even a hint as to what he was thinking or feeling. Ron took over.

"Look, mate, unless we were all dreaming the same thing last night, we all understand that Evan is your twin brother in disguise. Who's been gone… for a long time. Without any word at all. And we get that it's gonna be hard on you, but…"

"But really, there's no need for you to have to make Evan –"

"Harry," Hayden grunted.

"Err – right, Harry. There's no need to suddenly make him your lifeline."

Hayden blinked. "What?"

"You're basically making him out to be the only important thing in your life, when he's not."

Hayden stared at them. They shifted.

"It _is_ unusual that he'd be hiding himself from you, but if we just look at this logically, he must've been advised by Dumbledore or someone to do it for some reason, maybe for safety reasons –"

Hermione froze mid-sentence when Hayden's fists smashed onto the table, causing several plates to rattle loudly. A few surrounding students stared at them, until they looked away from the redhead's furious glare. When he was sure no-one else was trying to eavesdrop on them, Hayden leaned in close to them, his messy fringe casting a shadow on most of his visage and giving him a glowering aura. They leaned back involuntarily.

"You have no idea of what we went through after Harry 'disappeared', so don't go preaching to me about what I should or shouldn't be doing," he hissed at them fiercely. "I don't care if I'm over-reacting or not, but let me tell you this: the reason for Harry's disappearance was because _Dumbledore_ –" he spat out the name, "decided to impose his ideals and notions upon us and sent Harry to an orphanage." Hermione gasped; Ron's eyes widened. "Yes, an orphanage. A muggle orphanage where he spent two years at, with no contact at all. And after those two years, you know what happened?" Hayden sneered coldly, which didn't mask the pain in his eyes at all. "The orphanage burnt down in a fire. And his body wasn't found."

Hermione covered her mouth with her hands. Hayden stood up and grabbed his bag, swinging his legs over the bench. He looked back at Ron and Hermione again. "And how he survived after that? Seven months by himself, a ten year old child with no outside experience? I can't help but wonder how it's changed him," he finished bitterly, and was gone in a flash.

Left in the wake of his cold fury, Ron and Hermione exchanged a meaningful glance.

They'd royally stuffed it up.

**XxX**

Hayden wandered the halls aimlessly, thinking that he should be actively searching for Harry, yet only allowing his eyes to roam half-heartedly around the cold stone walls of the castle. His bag bumped rhythmically against the side of his thigh, the weight of the books inside heavy enough to jar his gait slightly, but not so much as to compel him to shift it into a new position.

Having released some pent-up anger and frustration (regrettably on his friends, but rightfully on Dumbledore), the redhead had finally achieved a welcome state of relative clarity and calm in which he could mull over the recent events.

In particular, Harry.

To think that his twin had been alive the whole time, and right in front of Hayden's eyes as well – the fact that he'd had no idea of Evan's true identity or even suspected him did little to assure him of the fact that he was a good brother. He pondered briefly whether Harry would've returned to them if he'd been a better brother, a twin that didn't get caught up in the fame and idealism of being the Boy-Who-Lived.

Inexorably, this thought lead to him wondering _why_ Harry had chosen to remain anonymous, _why_ he didn't come back to his family. The notion that Harry might've chosen not to return to them because of ill-feelings towards them was ludicrous to his mind. He simply could not entertain the thought of Harry, the loving twin whom had once stuck all his socks to his ceiling, bearing ill-feelings towards his own family.

'_No,'_ he thought with a sudden dash of cold reality, _'but Evan Reeds certainly seems able to hate someone.'_

"My God, Harry," he whispered, unaware that he was speaking his thoughts aloud. "What happened to you?"

Lost in his chaotic thoughts, Hayden absentmindedly pushed a door open, his feet having led him to the school library. He paid no heed to where he was going, or to the stern gaze of Madam Pince, but merely proceeded to amble aimlessly between the towering aisles of books and tomes, randomly pulling one out to flick through listlessly before continuing to wander.

When he'd just about had enough of the library's oppressive silence, he placed the book on Animagi that had vaguely interested him back into its rightful place and, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, turned a corner.

Much to his surprise, he walked straight into someone.

"Oof!"

Hayden fell back, crushing his bag beneath him. At the same time, the person he had walked into staggered back, throwing out an arm against the bookshelf for balance. All in all, they generated quite a ruckus.

A shushing noise floated over the shelves and to their ears, Madam Pince's ire quite easily conceivable in their minds. Hayden glanced up, a half-hearted apology on his lips which died the moment he saw whom exactly he had bumped into.

"H-Harry…" he breathed, eyes widening.

The face of Evan Matthew Reeds stared back at him, brown eyes just as large and jaw slack. Hayden didn't hesitate. He scrambled to his feet and lunged forward, wrapping his arms around his twin brother joyously, unconsciously crushing his brother with his enthusiasm. He could feel the telltale prickle behind his eyes and forcefully held back the hot tears.

Slowly, tentatively, as if Hayden would disappear like smoke if he tried to grab on, Harry returned the heartfelt embrace, wrapping his arms around his brother for the first time in years.

Eventually, they managed to drag themselves out of their joy and pulled back from one another, taking a moment to size each other up as if they hadn't seen each other in years. For Hayden, it was disconcerting to be staring at Evan Reed's face knowing that underneath was – and always had been – his twin brother Harry.

"I…" Hayden swallowed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he searched for something to fill the awkward silence between them. "… I missed you."

Harry's eyes flashed with a foreign emotion. It disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. He said nothing, listening to and watching Hayden intently.

"Merlin, I missed you, Harry!" he breathed, smiling joyously, before sobering quickly. "After you were gone… after Dumbledore moved you away, I started seeing you everywhere. It was lonely without you, Harry. I had all these lessons on magic, but it never really went as good as it could've, because I kept thinking about you and missed you too much.

"Then when you died – when we thought you'd died, I thought I'd go insane. I kept blaming Dumbledore for the mess, and even my – our parents, but I think… I just… it's because I hated myself for not doing anything about it… about not doing anything _for_ you. I missed you so much… I wanted to go find you myself. But I _didn't_.

"Mum and Dad… they missed you as well. So did Sirius and Remus. They all kept fighting for a while about you, and we all wanted to bring you back…"

"Then why didn't they."

Harry's cold voice, tight with emotion, cut through Hayden sharply. He glanced up at his brother's face, which was straining to remain blank. "H-huh? What?"

"Why… why didn't they come back… just a visit… just a few words… once a month, once a year, I don't _care_, _WHY_ didn't they just come back when they could?" Harry snarled. The tight reigns he had kept on his emotions for the past three years had finally snapped, and a torrent of emotions and words came pouring out.

"They – Mum and Dad – they knew… they knew where the orphanage was… they _damn well_ left me there themselves! So why did… why… how could they not – just – just once! Even just one visit in those two years I spent there, that would've been enough! But _no_, they're too busy aren't they?" he snarled, "They're too busy putting all their effort into training the Boy-Who-Lived and attending press conferences and photo shoots! Mummy and Daddy-dearest couldn't _possibly_ spare a second of their lives to exchange even a letter to their other son, all because of _Dumbledore_!"

"No! Leave Mum and Dad out of this – it's not their fault!" Hayden cried, leaping to the defence of their parents.

"It's as much their fault as it is Dumbledore's," Harry said vehemently. "They could easily have just said no and kept me where I belong, but they felt like they _had_ to send me away, for your 'protection'!"

"Protection?" Hayden blinked. "Wh-what are you talking about?"

"I don't know what I'm talking about – but _they_ were talking _trash_, if I ever heard some," Harry answered coldly. "It's all their fault for leaving me there; for not choosing to look for me even once in those two years –"

"You're to blame as well!" Hayden cried out suddenly, temper flaring.

Harry jerked back, startled. "What?" he hissed.

"I said you're to blame for half this mess as well!" Hayden repeated, stronger than before. "If you had just told us who you were – back in Diagon Alley, on the train, these whole four months gone by – we'd be together again! We'd be a bloody family, but _no_, you were probably too scared, weren't you?" Hayden ground out.

"Scared? Of what would I have been scared of? Hmm, let's think… oh yeah, maybe being sent away again? What would be the point of coming back only to be sent away time and time again?" Harry retorted.

"You don't even know if they would send you back!" Hayden shouted. "You're just using that as an excuse for your cowardice, for taking the easy way out of things and just leaving us in torment, agonising over whether you were dead or alive, if you suffered or not, if you –"

"'If I suffered or not'?" Harry interjected, laughing mirthlessly. "'_If I suffered or not_'? Did I hear you right? You have no _idea_, brother mine, of what I went through. You don't understand, not one iota, if you were wondering if I _suffered_. Two years in an orphanage, isolated from a loving family I once had. Seven months living by myself, living on _trash_ just to stave off starvation, and getting into life-or-death situations." Harry loomed closer. "Now you tell me, dear brother, whether you're still wondering if I _suffered_."

"Well, the more's the pity for you," Hayden shot back, too incensed to stop and think or process the guilt that Harry's words had brought. "Maybe you should sell your sob story to the _Prophet_ – I'm sure you'll be able to gather just as many pitying fans with all your guilt-tripping!"

"You think I'm exaggerating?" Harry hissed. "You think this is some sort of _game_ to me? Take a look around, Hayden! Pull your head out of your arse and look beyond the high life and the camera flashes! If you'd seen the sort of destitution I lived in –"

"Why didn't _you_ pull your sorry head out of whatever dump you were wallowing in for the past two years and tell us where you were! Tell us you wanted to come back! Bloody send us a message, return my letters! And I _know_ you bloody got my letters because my owl always came back without them! If you're so angry over this, then why didn't you just come back? It's hardly a complicated matter, Harry. Was it because you hated us for what you couldn't do? What you were afraid to do?"

"So what if I did?" Harry growled. "And it's certainly not as simple as you think it is, so shut it!"

"Oh, so now it's because you didn't _want_ to come back, right?" Hayden accused. "You wanted us to feel so bad for you, and so ashamed of ourselves that you just refused to return!"

"You know what, if this is how everyone else is gonna react to my presence, then maybe I _will_ be better off, BY MYSELF!"

"THAT'S IT, **OUT**!"

Madam Pince came barrelling around the corner, warding them off using her wand. Before they knew it, they had been shoved out of the library with a few mere flicks of the librarian's wand. They stumbled over each other before pushing away, scowling and glaring.

"I agree with you, Harry: I think you'd best be off by yourself. Everyone else will be better off because of it as well," Hayden dismissed coldly.

Harry drew himself up, returning his brother's glare with equal intensity. "Then we have nothing more to say to each other," he remarked stiffly, and swept off down the hall.

Hayden stood stock still, staring after him long after he disappeared around the corner.

**XxX**

Hayden didn't go to any of his lessons after that.

Nor did he go to dinner, as hungry as he was (having missed breakfast and most of lunch). He spent the rest of the day until sundown walking around the lake and skipping stones around the Giant Squid's waving tentacles.

After cooling down somewhat, he took the time to reflect on the argument, and hated how he felt guilty for the things he'd said out of anger. At the same time, the hurt from Harry's barb-like words spread through him like poison, and worse, he didn't know if Harry had meant what he said or not.

'_After what he's been through, I wouldn't be so surprised if he did mean them,'_ he thought melancholically. Far off behind him, he heard faint echoes of the bell signalling the end of classes for the day. As he thought none-too-regretfully about all the classes he had missed, he couldn't help but wonder how things would be different if Harry had been allowed to stay and learn magic with him.

'_We could've shared a closer bond,'_ he sighed, 'a_nd we'd probably be talking about taking down Voldemort together.'_

Together…

As twins should be, but they were not.

Lost in his daydream of a different world, Hayden didn't hear a pair of feet approaching him slowly until a familiar voice spoke up.

"Hayden."

The redhead twisted around and glanced up into the silhouetted face of none other than the History Professor, Lily Evans-Potter.

"Oh," he greeted awkwardly, "hi Mum."

Lily smiled gently at him, which was a far cry from the stern lecture he'd been expecting for missing out on half his classes, and on the first day of term, no less! She sat down and turned away from him to stare out the lake at the squirming tentacles of the squid, weaving and meandering through the air and around each other like a choreographed dance. Hayden remained silent, unsure of how to begin their conversation.

"So…" Lily began, almost too softly for Hayden to hear. "Rough night, huh?"

Hayden gave a little jerk. "How did -?"

She laughed softly, but sadly. "I don't need to be a Diviner to know that you're clearly bothered by something that happened before today, as you weren't at breakfast and your friends were obviously worried. They came to me asking if I had seen you, which is most unusual." She glanced at his profile. "After all, you do share a dorm with Ron Weasley."

'_I shoulda known: Mum's way too perceptive to be fooled in any way,'_ he thought wryly.

"It's… nothing, really. I'm just over-reacting," he grinned slightly, recalling vividly how Hermione had described his reactions earlier.

"… well if you're sure," Lily pressed him gently.

"Yeah…" he struggled with himself, debating whether or not to tell all to his mother – to _their_ mother. As their mother, Lily had the right to know everything about Harry. But…

And a nasty little voice inside him repeated what Harry had said; what he was afraid to say. _'But she was the one who left Harry alone in that orphanage, she and her husband.'_

Lily saw the stricken look on his face, an expression torn between pain and desperation, and said, "Please, Hayden – tell me what's wrong."

"I… I – I don't want to…" Hayden trailed off, shaking his head furiously. "D'you miss Harry?"

Lily gasped, so quickly and softly that Hayden first mistook it for the wind. "What?"

"Do you… miss Harry sometimes?"

His mother stared at him, eyes shining, whether from unshed tears or the reflected sunlight from the lake he didn't know. He fidgeted under her intense stare, averting his eyes from her burning green orbs.

Abruptly, she lurched towards him and engulfed him in a tight embrace, her arms shaking slightly. Surprised, Hayden did nothing at first, then relaxed into his mother's arms. Burying her face into his messy red hair, the same shade as her own hair, she whispered loudly enough for him to hear.

"I've always missed him, Hayden. I miss him everyday, every hour, every second. I've missed him from the moment he went away. I miss him every time I see you, because he's your twin; your blood – _our_ blood."

Harry's accusatory shouts resounded in his ears loudly, almost drowning out his own voice to his ears. "Mum… why didn't you try to bring him back? Why didn't you ever try to send a letter, or visit him?"

"I did," she whispered, running her hands over his ruffled hair. "I tried so many times; I came so close to doing so too. Many times I'd finished a letter and began tying it to an owl, but I always… ripped them before I could send it off. At times when I was alone, I contemplated going for a quick visit. The closest I'd ever gotten was to knocking on the door of the orphanage, but… every time I'd lose my nerve and cast a glamour over myself and pretend to be interested in adopting a child, just before the receptionists open the door.

"I think… in the end, each time… I didn't want to see Harry because I was afraid…"

"Afraid of what?" Hayden asked softly, but his mother didn't hear, lost in her own chaotic thoughts.

After waiting a while without any reply, Hayden turned his gaze back to the lake, just in time to see the Giant Squid retreat back into the depths of the water. Mother and child stayed that way for a long while, basking in the quiet comfort of each other's presence. As darkness began to fall, a silvery essence suddenly appeared and swirled around them, coming to a stop beside Lily. Hayden thought he heard the whispering of a voice, but it disappeared along with the ghost-like wraith.

"It's alright, Hayden; it's a Patronus. I have to go down to Hogsmeade now, though. Your father wants to throw a party," she smiled mysteriously, removing her arms from around his shoulders.

Hayden felt a flash of impulse to grab her arm and place it around him again, suddenly feeling a loss of warmth. Instead, he smiled sadly and stood up with his mother, stretching out his limbs. "Okay. But what's the party for?" he asked curiously.

"You'll find out soon enough," she replied vaguely.

Hayden shook his head, smiling. "Alright. I'll just head back to the tower."

"You should eat," she said suddenly, narrowing her eyes on him. "Go to dinner. You missed breakfast, and half of lunch."

'_Ah. So she noticed.'_

"I'm not all that hungry," he lied, "too much to think about." Well, that much was true, at least.

One look at his mother's face told him she didn't buy his excuse for a second. "I'll eat tomorrow," he compromised hopefully.

Lily relented, knowing she wouldn't be getting anything else out of her only son anymore. "Alright, then. But no more skipping meals," she said sternly.

He nodded. She hugged him quickly and had only gone a few steps when Hayden spoke again.

"Mum."

She turned around and nodded to show him she was listening.

"Do you think…" he hesitated, before ploughing on. "D'you think that Harry would hate us for what we've done to him?"

Silently, she stared at him, before a single tear traced her soft cheek and she smiled sadly. Her answer left Hayden feeling not at all better with himself for withholding information.

"That's what I was always afraid of…"

**XxX**

A few hours later, Hayden was curled up in his favourite armchair by the fire, flicking through the pages of his Transfiguration book restlessly. The common room was blissfully empty, save for a few N.E.W.T students conversing quietly in the corner. The rest of the students were at dinner.

He slouched further into his chair, flipping another page over and skimming his eyes over the words, reading without taking any of the information in. He sighed when, inevitably and unbidden, his thoughts returned to Harry. He glanced up at the portrait hole as if his twin brother might be on the other side.

He sighed explosively, causing the seventh years to glance at him quickly, and set the book down on the small table. He stared at it sullenly for a minute before sighing again, snatching the book up irritably and re-opening it.

He managed to force his interest slightly, and by the time he reached the chapter on Conjuring, dinner had ended. The students first trickled back into the common room one by one, and soon enough, Gryffindor Tower was as jam-packed as any other regular week night. Hayden stoutly kept his head down, averting his eyes from the students coming in.

"Hayden?"

The timid voice broke him out of his reverie, hesitant and slightly apprehensive. Recognising the voice, Hayden grudgingly glanced up at Hermione and Ron, who hovered beside him nervously. He stared at them broodingly for a short moment, making them fidget, before sighing and inclining his head towards the empty armchairs beside his.

"What is it now?" he demanded, but lacking any real conviction or venom.

Ron and Hermione shared a glance before looking at him contritely. "We're sorry, Hayden," Hermione spoke softly. "We didn't ask you anything and we just assumed everything… and it was wrong of us to do so. So we're sorry… for – for intruding in private family matters."

Ron nodded. "If it means anything, now that we know the real story, we think it wasn't fair for your brother to be sent away. Sorry for saying you were over-reacting. I'd probably be acting the same way if that ever happened to me."

"Probably would," Hayden agreed.

"So… you're not so… _mad_ at us, anymore, right?"

Hayden rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, biting his lip. "Well… I wasn't mad at you guys to start with, I was just so angry at everything and I just… sorta took it out on you guys." He coughed. "Sorry about that…"

"Well…" Hermione heaved an immense sigh of relief. "It's all past, now. Let's just focus on the situation on hand…" she suddenly adopted a stricken look. "I-I-I mean, if there is one! I'm sorry, I just –"

Hayden cut her off tiredly. "It's alright Hermione. Yes, there is a situation, but I guess it's blown over now…" he yawned. "What with the argument earlier and all…" he trailed off as the portrait hole opened again, this time admitting entrance to Neville and Harry, disguised as Evan.

Hayden purposefully kept his eyes on the dancing fingers of heat in the hearth, waiting silently until his two fellow dorm-mates had disappeared up the stairs. He looked up again.

Ron and Hermione were staring at him. He sighed.

'_Might as well get this over with.'_

Explaining aloud what had transpired between him and Harry earlier did nothing to put his mind and heart at ease.

* * *

Author's Notes: Hi all! Sorry for the (extremely) long wait, but… meh, whatever. Several changes have been made to this story, as you might've already noticed with the new title. Since it's been five months since the previous update, I think you guys have the right to smack me around thoroughly.

In other news… WOOT! FIFTEEN-NESS! HURRAY! I am now 'legally' permitted to watch M- and MA-rated movies, but like most other kids, I've already watched several. Heh.

I'll give no guarantees on how long the next chapter will take, but I promise to work on it as hard as I possibly can. Until then…

Merry Christmas, and, if I don't update before 2009, have a Happy New Year!


	9. 8: Fueling the Flames

**The Jaded Brothers: Trials of Magic**

By Blueberry Blaster

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. Any and all infringement is unintended.

* * *

**C****hapter VIII: Fueling the Flames**

"We don't want you in our lives, anymore," James whispered to him, the light reflecting off his glasses and obscuring his cold eyes.

"You're too much of a burden; too much of a danger to Hayden," Lily continued, a sweet smile of cold dismissal adorning her face.

"But…" Harry swallowed weakly, unable to comprehend the words they were uttering. "But… I don't understand… I'm your _son_…"

"So is Hayden," his father interrupted. "But Hayden's the Boy-Who-Lived; he's _special_. _You_ are a nobody; just a distraction to Hayden, a liability. We cannot have a _nobody_ obstructing Hayden's path…"

"N-no…" he argued weakly, glancing helplessly at his mother. "That's not… you're not – it's just a… a lie… you're not doing this, y-you're not saying this… ! Not to me… not me – your son… your own _flesh_ and _blood_..."

"They say blood is thicker than water, but in truth, it is as fickle as fame and fortune," Lily cut in smoothly. "And really, we'd much rather give up one of our own blood than fame and fortune – _that's_ hard to come by and keep, you know."

"You... you LIE!" Harry shouted, denial forging the words for his lips to utter. "YOU'RE NOT MY PARENTS! THEY WOULDN'T DO THIS TO ME! THEY WOULD _NEVER_ –!"

"But we already have," James smirked, an ugly grimace of hate. "Don't you remember?"

Harry shook his head vehemently, squeezing his eyes shut, but found them forced open by an invisible hand. Before him was a scene all too familiar to him: staring out a dirty window, little hands pressed up against the cold, unforgiving glass, as his parents walked away without a backwards glance. Hand in hand, wind-swept black hair intertwining with auburn locks. With each step, Harry felt colder, and with each step, they were further and further out of his reach.

"No…" he pleaded, "No… come back! Don't leave me… don't leave me alone… I don't want to be alone – I don't _like_ being alone! COME BACK! PLEASE! _PLEASE_! I DON'T WANT TO, I DON'T WANT TO, I DON'T WANT THIS! I WANT TO GO BACK!" his chest heaved, his diminutive fists striking futilely against the glass. "I WANT TO GO HOME! I WANT TO GO WITH YOU! WITH HAYDEN! SIRIUS! REMUS! **I DON'T WANT TO BE ALONE**!" he howled.

'_You will be alone…'_

He whipped around, fear gripping his heart in a vice-like grip. "W-who's there?" he demanded, backing up against the wall.

'_You __**are**__ alone…'_

"No… I'm not…I still have…I've still got…" but no name fell upon his lips; no face blossomed in his mind.

'_You will __**live**__ alone…'_

"I-I won't…! I won't be a-alone…"

'_You will __**fight**__ alone…'_

Harry shook his head, his throat seizing up, and his lips moving soundlessly – wordlessly.

'_And you will __**die**__ alone…'_

"_**NOOOOO**_!" he raged, clutching his head and sinking to his knees. "NO! I WILL _NOT_! I REFUSE! I WILL NOT BE ALONE!" Tears of anger and pain streamed down his cheeks and dripped onto the frayed carpet.

'_It is inevitable. You are alone, cast out into the shadow of your brother, the Boy-Who-Lived. He will live a life with many friends, with a loving family. He will have many comrades to fight alongside__ with, and many disciples to support him. He will die in the arms of his family and friends. He will be mourned by all._

'_You, living in the darkness, will be eternally alone. You will live unknown, wasting away in destitution and suffering, alone with your pains and grievances. You will fight your demons with a failing heart and mind, and will be supported by your broken body alone. You will die alone. And you will fade away from existence. Fade away from memories. Fade away from yourself.'_

A rough purring that bordered on soft roaring invaded his ears. An acrid, burning smell attacked his nostrils and watered his already-shining eyes. Heat washed over him in waves, pushing him further and further into his despair.

'_You hear that, Harry? That is the sound of existence – of Hayden's flaming existence, leaving it's mark on whatever it touches. But…'_

Harry screamed, a long, drawn-out cry of pain and suffering. He dug his fingers into the burning carpet, scraping away at the tortuous ground with burning fingers. His hair danced with flames, his legs and feet obscured by dancing fingers of fire. He writhed and thrashed in agony, arching his back and slamming his arms into the ground, anything to cease the pain and suffering.

But no matter how painful the flames – no matter how much the flames burned him – he knew that he only screamed to drown out the vile, elusive voice whispering into his mind and ears.

'… _these are also the __flames of your death…'_

And a high-pitched laugh drowned out his screams of agony, wracking his overloaded senses with fear anew. As he glanced up, the flames flickered and parted, revealing a tall, hooded figure towering over him. Blood-red eyes filled with disgust alighted upon him and the face – sallow, waxen and terrifying evil – sneered contemptuously at him.

Wreathed in flames and suddenly unable to move, he could only watch as the man raised his pale wand, aiming it directly between his eyes.

"_AVADA KEDAVRA_!"

He didn't even scream; there was no time. One second he was staring at that face, framed with the dancing silhouettes of the flames, the next his whole world had turned green, and then he was sitting upright in his four-poster back in Gryffindor tower. He panted heavily as he clutched at the sheets with slick hands, his skin layered with a thin sheen of sweat. He stared at his red hangings for a minute, gasping for breath as the rational part of his brain slowly reasserted.

Then he groaned, softly, tiredly, and fell back into the rumpled covers of his four-poster, flinging a hand over his eyes. And beyond his hangings, for once un-Silenced, a pair of hazel eyes closed woefully.

**XxX**

Harry stared dazedly at the words he'd written not three minutes ago, now just meaningless scribbles blurring together before his aching eyes. He yawned widely, dipped his quill into the inkpot, and poised it over the parchment before setting it down again. He propped his chin in one hand and continued to gaze at the ink unseeingly.

Across from him, Neville snuck a furtive glance up at his tired face before returning to his Transfiguration essay. His quill made soft scratching noises as it moved slowly over the parchment, but was easily drowned out by Evan's continual yawning.

Eventually, he set down his quill and cleared his throat softly, interrupting his friend mid-yawn. Evan looked at him, eyes slightly glazed and immeasurably clouded with exhaustion. "Erm, are you alright, Evan?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Neville felt like ducking under the table. _'Of course he's not alright, what kinda question is that?'_ he mentally berated himself.

Embarrassedly, he glanced up quickly at Evan. The corner of his lips tugged up, but the smile didn't reach the other boy's eyes.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"Oh…" Neville smiled back hesitantly. "Well, if you're sure…"

"Yeah…" Evan yawned again.

Silence fell between the two again as they returned to their homework unenthusiastically. Evan yawned continually. Neville glanced at him periodically.

After a strained period of silence, Neville sighed, put his quill and inkpot away, and waved his wand over the parchment to dry the ink. Evan glanced up at him blearily from having stared at the parchment motionlessly for five minutes.

Neville answered the unasked question, standing and packing his homework away. "I've had enough of Transfiguration. I think I'll go watch Quidditch practise or something…"

Inevitably, Harry's thought returned to Hayden. They were well into the second week of term, and his magical exhaustion passed and faded into sleep deprivation. His recurring nightmares were taking their toll on him, and it clearly showed in his pale complexion and the heavy shadows under his bloodshot eyes. And from the few times he had glimpsed Hayden, his brother didn't seem to be faring any better, although he had taken to avoiding his twin like the plague.

Avoiding his brother's company was easier than he had anticipated; Quidditch practices were once again scheduled five nights a week, in preparation for Gryffindor's upcoming game against Hufflepuff. When Hayden wasn't out flying around in the rain and mud, he was holed up in the library or common room, working on his homework frantically but more often than not poring through thick tomes with Ron and Hermione.

"Evan?"

"Huh?" Harry glanced up automatically; he had settled into Evan Reeds' persona well that he'd almost started to think of himself as Evan. "Oh, right. Yeah, you go ahead. I'll see you at dinner or something," he replied, once he realised that Neville had been waiting for a response.

Neville looked him over again, not hiding the concern shining in his eyes. Harry shook his head. "Seriously, Neville, I'll be fine. You go ahead. Really."

"Alright." Neville gave him one last dubious glance before leaving.

Suddenly alone, Harry felt like he was suffocating under the oppressive silence of the library. Adding to his discomfort was the fact that Madam Pince was staring a hole into the back of his head, obviously remembering his recent offence of library rules. Unable to concentrate any more on his homework, he sighed, stuffed it into is bag and got up.

As soon as he stepped outside, gales of laughter assaulted his ears. There was a thud and a yelp of pain and fear. Harry's head whipped around, and he immediately saw the unmistakable blonde hair of Malfoy, flanked as usual by Crabbe and Goyle. The three Slytherins were standing just a few metres down the hall, and on the ground in front of them was a struggling bundle of robes.

It took a few seconds for Harry's sleep-deprived mind to process what he was seeing, but when he realised that the flailing bundle was in actuality Neville, an ice-cold fury seeped into him, chilling him to his bones. As he stared coldly at Malfoy's sneering face, he suddenly found his wand in his hand and raised it, aiming it at the blond aristocrat. He cast the Jelly-Legs Jinx and it soared down the hall and impacted with Malfoy's chest. The effects were immediate; Malfoy had barely a second to glance up in shock before his legs began wobbling uncontrollably and he collapsed in a heap.

Crabbe and Goyle stared blankly at Malfoy as he struggled to stand. The blonde Slytherin started spluttering angrily, catching sight of Harry moving down the hall swiftly to Neville's side. "What the – you! You'll pay for that, you filthy –"

Harry tuned out Malfoy's rant, kneeling beside Neville who was flushed in anger and shame. "You okay? What spell did he use?" he asked softly.

"The Leg-Locker Curse," he mumbled in reply.

"_Finite Incantatum_," Harry quickly cast, reversing the effects of the curse on Neville's legs. He looked back up sharply at Malfoy, who had, by then, undone the jinx on his legs and was staggering to his feet, face flushed in anger.

"You dirty little mudblood," he snarled, hair rumpled and previously immaculate robes horribly creased. "I'll have your hide for this. Mark my words, when my father hears of this, you'll be saying goodbye to Hogwarts and going back to your disgusting Muggle world."

"Is that all you can do?" Harry shot back, keeping his wand ready as he pulled Neville to his feet. "Use your father as a shield? Call people names? Really, you're just a snot-nosed, spoilt bully."

Malfoy had his wand raised and pointed at Harry in a flash. "_Loco_ –"

"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry cried out, his voice drowning out Malfoy's.

The blond boy was quite surprised, but quickly dragged Goyle into the Disarming spell, blasting the heavyset boy down the corridor, his wand soaring through the air and landing with a clatter on the polished floor. Malfoy fired off another spell and Harry cast a shield charm before countering with the Impediment jinx. It missed by a few inches and Malfoy retaliated by firing off an unfamiliar curse. Harry ducked, pulling Neville down with him, and while in his crouched position he cast a Trip Jinx at Malfoy.

He and Neville were forced to leap apart when another curse hit the empty space between them. Harry advanced upon the blond boy, flicking his wand quickly as he cast the Impediment Jinx again, following it with a Disarming spell. Malfoy attempted to cast the shield charm desperately, and it fizzed into life briefly before the first jinx smashed it out of existence and the second spell knocked him down.

He snatched Malfoy's ebony wand out of the air and glared down at the blond. "All bark and no bite," he smiled mirthlessly.

"Evan!"

Harry whirled around upon hearing Neville's cry of alarm. He had his wand raised, but seconds later he realised that a stick of wood would be useless against heavy fists the approximate size, shape, and weight of small boulders. Crabbe's fist smashed into his abdomen and he doubled over in pain, coughing as he struggled to bring air back into his winded body. He was vaguely aware of his wand clattering against the marble floor and Neville's shout, but was still reeling from the sudden assault.

He felt a meaty hand grab him roughly by one shoulder and wrench him back upright. Through a blur of tears, Harry saw another fist bearing down on his face and instinctively reacted. He planted both feet into Crabbe's bulky midsection and pushed with all his might. They were propelled a sizeable distance away from each other as Harry leapt away and rolled into a crouching position, clutching his abdomen. Crabbe stumbled back several paces but didn't fall.

The thickset Slytherin boy grinned at him and moved forward, cracking his knuckles. Despite the tenderness of his stomach, Harry couldn't help but welcome the adrenaline rush and anticipation of a physical brawl with an almost feverish delight. He felt a smile stretch his face and Crabbe hesitated slightly before lunging at him.

Harry easily dodged under his adversary's right hook, and jabbed the tips of his straightened fingers into Crabbe's proportionate gut, before leaping away. Crabbe grunted in pain & clutched his stomach briefly, before lunging for Harry again. This time, he aimed for Harry's face with the intent to grab him roughly. Harry simply moved to the side, grabbed the trunk-like wrist, and brought the side of his hand hard into Crabbe's neck, eliciting gagging sounds from his victim.

He released the trunk-like arm and backed away, dodging the blind swipe that would have taken his feet out from under him. Crabbe glowered at him and lumbered towards him slowly, causing Harry to back away in response to his advance. He felt the heel of his foot hit the wall and glanced back needlessly, swearing inwardly.

Crabbe grinned, and lurched forward, hands clenched into meaty fists. Harry smiled coldly; he had counted upon Crabbe having minimal spatial and environmental awareness. He waited until the thickset boy was less than half a metre away before leaping to the side, blurring out of Crabbe's vision. An expression of surprise and bewilderment adorned his meaty face, in the split-second before he smashed head-long into the wall.

There was no time for Harry to celebrate, however, as something that felt like a sizeable branch smashed into the side of his head, momentarily blacking out his vision. When he could see again, he was lying on his side on the marble floor, staring at a pair of extra-large shoes. Head throbbing and vision wavering dangerously, Harry raised his head up slightly and saw Goyle standing over him, grinning triumphantly.

Before his disoriented mind could even comprehend escape, the Slytherin pulled back one foot. Harry's eyes widened, realising what he was going to do to him – with someone as large and heavy as Goyle, Harry's adolescent and slightly malnourished ribs would simply shatter.

A war-cry of sorts rent the air and something knocked into Goyle from behind. The Slytherin staggered, but remained standing as that certain something wrapped its arms around Goyle's head. Harry blinked several times.

"Neville?"

"Behind you, Evan!"

Harry whipped around immediately, and took only a second to process the sight of Malfoy aiming his wand at them before tackling into the blonde aristocrat, grabbing him around the mid-section and pulling him down onto the floor with him. He knocked Goyle's wand out of Malfoy's hand before they had even stopped rolling from the momentum of Harry's tackle. They came to a stop, robes tangled and slightly dizzy, with Harry pinned inadvertently under Malfoy. He paused for a moment to regain his bearings before kicking Malfoy off, causing the blonde to be flung bodily into the air and a couple of metres away.

Harry staggered upright, and saw Neville being held aloft, his feet inches from the ground, Goyle's meaty fists clenched around the Gryffindor's neck. Harry charged forward without a second thought and barrelled into the Slytherin. Unlike Malfoy, however, the thickset boy didn't fall and was merely surprised enough to release Neville, who dropped to the floor gasping for breath.

Goyle saw Harry, grabbed the front of his robes with one hand, and smashed his other fist into Harry's jaw, causing black spots to dance erratically in and out of the smaller boy's vision. Harry oriented himself enough to feel that his feet were still grounded and that Goyle still hadn't released his robes. The world spun dizzily, however, and he steadied himself by grabbing onto Goyle's thick arm, bringing his other hand back as far as he could before throwing the tightly-clenched fist into Goyle's eye.

His captor howled in pain, and reached up to clutch his eye with one hand; the punch did little to aid Harry in his plans for escape, and, if anything, Goyle's hand merely held onto Harry's robes even tighter. Harry, feeling his school-issued shirt begin to constrict his airways, grew slightly desperate and began throwing jabs at Goyle wherever he could reach: shoulders, chest, stomach, neck… the shirt twisted around Harry's neck steadily constricted further and further, until his vision started to fade into grey at the edges. He closed his eyes and grasped Goyle's unrelenting arm with both hands, panic settling in slowly, but surely.

'_Let go… let me go, damnit! Get off me…!'_

He heard someone scream, loudly, and startlingly close, but was already on the edge blacking out. He clutched at his throat, coughing as he steadied himself against the cool wall with one hand. He could hear loud shouting, angry demands interspersed with encouraging cheers and heckling jeers, and had barely raised his blurred eyes from the ground when a sharp, commanding voice made itself known above all else.

"_Impedimenta_!"

Harry felt his whole body freeze, held by invisible restraints in his crouching position. He was aware of the din in the corridor rapidly diminishing into soft whispers. The Gryffindor raised his eyes as far as they would allow, and saw the similarly frozen body of Goyle. The Slytherin was in the act of grabbing at his arm, which was sporting angry red boils.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could just barely see the limp, unmoving body of Crabbe where he had collided with the wall. Neville, however, was no-where in sight; neither was Malfoy. He assumed they must have engaged each other in combat, but, unable to see anything, held back from assuming anything else.

Suddenly, the invisible restraints released their hold on him, and also on Goyle, and Harry swivelled around – still crouching – to see Neville and Malfoy, both with their wands outstretched and the latter sporting a head of what appeared to be flowers where his slick blonde hair would usually be. Harry felt laughter bubble up in his chest, which promptly burst before it could even escape when he saw, just beyond the two opposing pure-bloods, Professor McGonagall.

"Never… in all my years as a Professor… in all my _life_… have I _ever_ laid eyes upon such – such… indignity!" Face tight and pinched in fury, Professor McGonagall suddenly seemed at a loss for what to say, although Harry inwardly guessed that she was at a loss of what to say _first_. Her lips thinned and she suddenly spun around on the heels of her feet, gesturing angry for them to follow.

"You four – follow me. Someone take Mr. Goyle to the Hospital Wing," a few students scuttled forward to comply as the Transfiguration Professor continued, "and someone inform Professor Snape to come to the Headmaster's office immediately."

And without another word, she began to march briskly down the corridor, the crowd parting before her like the red sea before Moses. Harry reluctantly picked himself up from the floor and followed, falling into step beside a dejected-looking Neville.

'_Oh, shit.'_

**XxX**

"- and to have _five_ upstanding students degrade themselves to such an indignity as physical brawling, let alone the breach of using magic in the corridors, is most shameful – yes, even you, Mr. Malfoy, and besmirching of the school name, not to mention your houses…"

Professor McGonagall halted in her angry tirade, pale and trembling with anger, when Dumbledore raised a hand. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall. That's quite enough… for now." He turned his penetrating gaze on the four students standing in front of his desk. "I would like to hear what they have to say for themselves."

Harry met Neville's fearful gaze before meeting Dumbledore's, and shrugged moodily, staring at the various gadgets that were littered around the Headmaster's office. He _felt_ rather than saw Professor McGonagall bristle at the blatant lack of respect, and could feel Snape – standing behind Malfoy and Goyle – sneer at him.

In the heavy silence of the office, with more than a dozen pairs of eyes staring down at them disapprovingly – the portraits weren't bothering to feign sleep – one of them was sure to crack, Harry mused. Predictably enough, Malfoy spoke up first, his face and voice strained with anger as he perpetually grasped at what had once been his hair.

"My father is going to hear of this! When the board of governors hear that three well-meaning students were brutally _assaulted_, without provocation –"

"Can it, Malfoy," Harry rolled his eyes. "You really think that we –" he gestured between himself and Neville – "would try to take on you three?"

Malfoy reddened, and made a jerky movement as if to draw his wand, but the restraining hands Snape had put on his and Goyle's shoulders prevented him from going any further.

"Hold your tongue, Mr. Reeds. It is rude to interrupt others when they are speaking."

"Speaking? He was just listening to the sound of his voice… as usual."

Snape's sneer intensified into a glare. "You are in enough trouble already, Reeds, so refrain yourself from speaking anymore!"

"You make it sound as if _I_ were the only one about to be punished, _Professor_."

"Enough," Dumbledore inserted firmly. "I suppose what happened to initiate this tussle is irrelevant. What matters is that five students were in serious breach of half a dozen school rules, causing physical and magical injuries, and were completely aware of their doing so. Therefore, the consequences shall be equally and appropriately laid out." He glanced at both Heads of Houses briefly, and seeing no disagreement, continued.

"Each House will be deducted fifty points, and every one of you shall serve a month of detention with various Professors. Is that understood?" Seeing no protests, although Malfoy was working his jaw soundlessly in horror, and Neville was trembling in shame, he nodded in disappointed satisfaction. "Very well. You should all have Madam Pomfrey check you over. Mr. Reeds, if you aren't in immediate need of medical attention, I would like for you to stay behind."

Harry nodded, and stared silently at Fawkes' empty perch as Neville and the Slytherins were ushered out wordlessly. Once the door clicked shut, Harry sighed and flung himself into the proffered chair, meeting Dumbledore's disappointed gaze sullenly.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Harry," he chided, and Harry twitched at what he perceived as the 'babying' tone.

'_Nah, really?'_ he snorted inwardly.

"Your recent behaviour is quite disturbing and alarming, especially your attitude towards your brother. This… _altercation_ with Mr. Malfoy and his friends has done nothing to reassure me that placing Hayden's safety and well-being in your hands is the right choice.

"I regret having to do this, but I'm afraid that you must either pull your act together, or abandon your duty. These past few days are leaving me more inclined to return you to your family so that you may live a normal life."

'… _what the heck is he blathering on about?'_ Harry thought in disbelief. _'He's the one who put me in the orphanage in the first place!'_

"I'm sorry, _Headmaster_, but I'm afraid to say that these past few days – weeks, even – have been making me less inclined towards staying at Hogwarts," he said, not sounding contrite at all. "If that's all," he stood, returning Dumbledore's sorrowful stare with a pointed look.

Dumbledore sighed. "You may go to the Hospital Wing, now."

Harry left without a word. The door clicked softly shut behind him, and as Dumbledore listened to the fading footsteps, he couldn't help but worry over the situation he was slowly being worked into.

'_Things are not going as planned.'_

**XxX**

Over the next few weeks, Harry and Neville found themselves the recipients of a House-sized cold shoulder. Within a few hours of the fight erupting, the news of their point deductions and detentions had circulated all around the school. While the point deductions hadn't landed them in last place, it had still depleted a sizeable chunk of rubies from the bottom bulb of the Gryffindor hour-glass, and placed them in danger of coming last.

For Harry, this hadn't bothered him as much as he'd expected it to, so he simply shrugged and went on with his studies. Neville, however, hadn't taken well to the fact that he'd contributed to Gryffindor's point loss – added to the fact that he rarely gained any points, Neville's self-esteem had hit an all-time low. His parents had owled him not long after the incident and Neville seemed to shrink in on himself further as he read the letter. Harry, having been irritated over the fact that several people had deemed him hex-worthy lately and somewhat apprehensive of facing his mother in History of Magic, had dragged Neville to the library immediately. Harry had refused to let Neville simply write a letter of apology and take the blame, and watched as his friend wrote a reply-letter, explaining what had really happened.

The two Gryffindors sheltered more often in the solitude of the library to complete their homework, as the stares and whispers behind their backs had begun to grate on even Harry's usually tolerant nerves. Another advantage of studying in the library was that their fellow housemates were reluctant to try to hex them whilst in the domain of Madam Pince. The last person to have tried that had apparently been caught by the librarian and promptly tossed out, their books having sprouted teeth and snapped at him for all of a month.

Another advantage to being estranged from the House, Harry soon realised, was that he had less trouble than before in avoiding Hayden. Of course, Hayden's absence could be attributed mostly to the fact that Quidditch practises had once again been scheduled five times a week, in preparation for Gryffindor's upcoming match against Hufflepuff – which Snape, of all people, would be refereeing.

When Hayden wasn't out flying around in the rain and mud, he was holed up in the library or common room, working on his homework frantically. And most of the time when he wasn't flying around half-blind from rain, Harry didn't need to see him at all, due to the fact that he and Neville had many detentions to serve. With at least four detentions a week, and Hayden having five nights dedicated to Quidditch, avoiding his twin brother was almost too easy.

The detentions, however, were another story.

Most of the time they were assigned to help Filch, and every time they were designated to aiding the hostile caretaker, they cleaned anything and everything. From impossibly-dirtied floors to grubby windows, from the dusty ornaments in the Trophy Room to the frequently-flooded corridor outside the first-floor girls' bathroom, they all had to clean several times – without magic. At one point, all five first years were assigned to cleaning the whole of the Great Hall after dinner, including wiping down the tables and benches. The most the house elves had done was to clear the food from the plates. It had taken them all of the night and it was only when early risers had started trickling in that the Deputy Headmistress had allowed them a reprieve and sent them back to their towers, where they slept the rest of the day away until their next detention.

The two Gryffindors and three Slytherins were rarely assigned to detention together, excepting the cleaning of the Great Hall and one other incident when all five were assigned to cleaning the stands of the Quidditch Pitch, which took all day. Both the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams came out at separate times to practise, tossing the Quaffle back and forth as they raced up and down the length of the pitch. The Beaters took to hitting the Bludgers at anyone, even each other (Fred and George Weasley engaged each other in a Bludger beat-down, whacking the enchanted balls between each other at a rapid pace). The Seekers were simply assigned to catching the Snitch, as usual.

The night before the long-anticipated Quidditch match, Harry and Neville had been assigned to mop up the voluminous puddle of water just outside the girls' bathroom, working steadily into the night as high-pitched wails drifted out of the bathroom. After several nights of monotonous mopping, Neville had grown accustomed to the wails and no longer jumped or slipped in a puddle every time the self-pitying ghost inside wailed. Harry had honestly felt no curiousity towards making the ghost's acquaintance, but once he had found out that the ghost had died when they were only twelve, and had been the only student in history to have died – apart from the occasional Triwizard Tournament champions – he'd felt a frequent urge to investigate further into the mysterious circumstances of Moaning Myrtle's death.

When the two Gryffindors finally dragged themselves up to their dormitory, eyes drooping and steps wavering precariously, they muttered incoherently and staggered to their own four-posters. Harry flopped into his luxuriously soft bed, pausing only to strip his sodden shirt and jeans off, not bothering to change into his night-clothes.

Morning came all too quickly, sunlight dancing across his eyelids after what seemed like only a few minutes of plagued sleep. Rubbing his bloodshot eyes, he listened to the movements beyond his hangings for a few moments without acknowledging them. When he did, he remembered the Quidditch match and froze, before sighing and reaching for a clean change of clothes that didn't smell like cleaning agents.

Despite feeling lethargic for the past week and wanting to avoid his brother, he knew that what had happened in the very first Quidditch match back in November had been an attempt on Hayden's life, and no doubt from Quirrell. He had little doubt that Snape was refereeing so as to keep a closer eye on either Hayden or Quirrell.

When he stepped out of his hangings, a wave of relief swept over him; Hayden had apparently already gone to breakfast, if the absence of his Quidditch robes that were usually tossed onto the chair was any indication. Dean and Seamus were rushing around the dorm, grabbing their cloaks and scarves and gloves, all the while smoothing out the large enchanted banner of the Gryffindor lion that they had made back in November.

Ron was no-where to be seen, so he assumed that the red-haired boy was already downstairs. Neville's hangings were still in place around the boy's four-poster, and deep breathing could be heard from within. Harry's lips quirked up slightly at one end, before he yawned widely and manoeuvred around the giant banner laid out on the floor, making his way to the bathroom.

By the time he'd finished refreshing himself and re-entered the dorm room, Neville had woken up and was staring on from his bed as Dean and Seamus struggled to re-animate the lion – Hermione's neat little charm had worn off. The brown-haired boy glanced up and smiled sleepily at Harry, his greeting lost in a loud yawn. Harry offered a tired half-smile in response, before disappearing behind his hangings to grab what he felt he'd need for the day: his wand, definitely, his two daggers, and his favourite black jacket in favour of the school-issued winter cloak.

Tugging at his wand holster slightly, he gave one last cursory inspection of his armaments, before nodding in grim satisfaction and leaving the dorm swiftly. Dean and Seamus looked up from the banner at the sound of the door opening, and only glimpsed the heel of Harry's shoe in his departure.

"Silent as a ghost," Dean muttered, shaking his head wryly.

**XxX**

"Hey Evan," Neville smiled in greeting.

He slipped into the spare seat beside him. Harry only grunted, eyes flickering over the crowd and, more specifically, over the Professors' stand. Quirrell was sitting beside the Arithmancy Professor, and was smiling nervously as he stuttered out a conversation. He tucked his clammy hands into his pockets, and sighed tiredly. Almost directly opposite him sat Lily and James Potter, along with Remus and Sirius. The excitement was almost palpable on James and Sirius' faces, but there was an undeniable air of tension and apprehension around them. Clearly, they were all worried about the events of November's match.

At that moment, the Hufflepuff team marched proudly onto the pitch, to cheers from at least half of the gathered crowd. The Slytherins, expectedly adverse to the Gryffindors, had chosen to support the Badgers, and, while they hadn't decked themselves out in black and yellow, were quite obviously cheering for the Hufflepuff team. The Ravenclaws were half-and-half, black-and-yellow interspersed with red-and-gold.

Almost as soon as the cheers died away, the Gryffindor team made their entrance, and the sheer volume of noise from the Gryffindor section of the stands stunned Harry. He rubbed his ears, glaring half-heartedly at the sky as if it were the source of all his troubles. Neville giggled behind his scarf and turned to talk with Hermione and Ron, both looking suitably anxious.

The cheers continued as the two teams came to a halt in the centre of the pitch, Snape standing between them. All too soon, the Captains had shaken hands and the teams mounted their brooms.

The whistle cut through the cheers and jeers shrilly, and suddenly the air was filled with fourteen flyers swooping and cutting through the chilly air. Snape was soon among them; his whistle blew almost immediately as Fred (or George) smacked a Bludger into a Hufflepuff Chaser's broom, spinning him around wildly as the Quaffle he dropped was snatched up by Alicia Spinnet. The Gryffindors were stunned into momentary silence before their voices began screaming and shouting their rage.

Harry soon found himself ignoring the rest of the gameplay, his eyes focused solely on Hayden. His brother was floating high above the game, scanning the pitch like a hawk. There was a commotion behind him, but Harry didn't turn to look, even when Malfoy's voice cut through the cheering around him.

"Oh, sorry Weasley – didn't see you there," he said, not sounding apologetic in the least.

Harry rolled his eyes and gripped Neville's upper arm. "Don't get involved," he muttered, seeing the brown-haired boy stiffen.

He ignored Malfoy's snide comments and the rest of the gameplay, seeing as it was more often than not disrupted by the sharp cry of Snape's whistle. He continued eyeing Hayden, but averted his eyes briefly when he heard his alias' name.

"– people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, whose brother got offed, then there's the Weasleys, who have no money – you and Longbottom should be on the team too, Reeds, you've no family and Lonbottom's got no brains."

"I-I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," Neville said, turning in his seat to face Malfoy.

Harry smiled lightly, before returning his eyes to Hayden, keeping half an ear on the words being exchanged. He could hear the tension straining Ron's voice, but his words were cut off when Hermione (and most of the crowd) gave a gasp, rising to her feet.

"Ron," she squealed, "Hayden –!"

"What – where?"

Hayden had gone into a steep dive, and as he descended rapidly, the crowd rose to its feet, pointing and cheering. Abruptly, Harry felt something like an elbow ram into his ribs, and he instinctively whirled around with a dagger already in his hand. His eyes scanned the spectacle of whirling fists and tangled robes before he remembered where he was, and quickly returned it to its sheath sewn into the inside of his jacket. He turned back in time to see a scarlet blur shoot past the unaware Snape, and pull out of the dive with a fist raised, clutching something shiny and fluttering. He smiled lightly and sat back down, and felt eyes on him.

Hermione was staring at him, eyes wide. Harry inwardly cursed as he raised a deceptively-nonchalant eyebrow at her. The girl flushed and turned away, cheering again for Hayden, but Harry saw the question in her eyes – he knew she'd seen the dagger in his hands. He turned away as well, choosing to stare on detachedly as waves of Gryffindors closed in around Hayden. He could see their parents, and Sirius and Remus, along with even Dumbledore converging on the red-haired Seeker. The Hufflepuffs gathered together disappointedly. The Slytherins were sour-faced and grumbling, but none were as sour-faced as Snape, who spat bitterly on the ground.

**XxX**

Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly as he plodded back to Gryffindor tower, returning from checking up on a bruised and battered but immensely proud Neville. Madam Pomfrey had only reassured him that he would be back to classes on Monday, before beginning to scrutinise his face critically. Harry quickly bade them both goodnight and left hurriedly, not wanting to stay in the Wing either.

He felt slightly foolish for believing that Quirrell would try something again with so many people alerted by the events of November's match, but being prepared was better than nothing. _'Now if only Hayden would give up on this Stone business…'_

But as he passed a closed classroom door, he heard three distinct voices arguing inside, and paused outside to listen.

"… that the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?"

"Then it'll be gone by next Tuesday."

'_Damn wishful thinking.'_

* * *

Author's Note: Eh-hehe… well, what can I say? This chapter was kinda hard to write, just don't know why…

Eh, whatever. Next chapter will hopefully be ready in five-ten days, as I'm seriously hoping to post before the 29th, because that's when school starts. Eep, so nervous about year ten… and exams… anyone have any advice? Beh, so anxious.

Well, see ya next time. Toodles!


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